#( Zero having his pyjamas on while he's in a meeting with someone he knows... )

[endexe]

Zero wearing certain outfits at inappropriate situations...

#( Zero wearing a suit at a beach... ) #( Zero having his pyjamas on while he's in a meeting with someone he knows... ) #( Zero with his horrible neon clothes at a funeral uh... ) #( listen he just??? doesn't really fucking care?????? about how people expects others to wear things at certain situations??? ) #( like he just doesn't understand why many people get worked up over with what others wear ) #( and if anyone somehow have a problem with him in his fishnets and skirt he will stab 'em! ) #( he's just vibing and??? yeah fsdgsdgd ) #tbd

[vivithefolle]

Hi Vivi, can you share some thoughts on the "Hermione deserves to be/should have married to XYZ because she is way too good for Ron" mentality of this fandom??

I’m gonna copy-paste a Quora answer of mine, because recycling is important!

Claiming that Ron is “out of Hermione’s league” is a statement rooted in sexism, classism and probably a bunch of other -isms.

It might seem like I’m just throwing buzz-words around but let me explain.

First off, the sexism.

Oh, the sexism.

As I’ve pointed it out in yet another one of my answers  (I’m so sorry for drowning you all in a plethora of links), Ron is very much a female-coded male character.

Ron is emotional, wears his heart on his sleeve, has anxieties and inadequacies, walks off in order to cool down, has a temper, puts other people before his needs, and pretty much adopts Harry when he rescues him in the second book. He’s the Heart of the Trio: he doesn’t rely on sole logic, he can believe something without proof, he is sensitive and thus is the easiest to hurt emotionally.

Whether you call it a “beta male”, a “wuss”, “defying gender roles” or a “soft boy” is your own business, but the core of it is that Ron doesn’t meet the standards for people’s vision of a “desirable” masculine figure.

The little things Ron quietly performs in the books - when he helps Harry into his pyjamas in Chamber of Secrets because Harry’s arm is bloop; when he’s worrying about Hermione’s whereabouts in Prisoner of Azkaban; when he helps Harry unwind after his visions in Goblet of Fire; when he puts food onto Harry’s plate and wakes him up from his nightmares in Order of the Phoenix; when he beams that Hermione was “perfect, obviously” when she passes her Apparition test - all those caring gestures don’t seem like much, but if you bother to think about it, they paint an enormous picture.

Who gets Hermione to stop overworking while making her feel good about her accomplishments? Who comforts Harry from his nightmares and cares for him in the dead of the night, when nobody is awake? Who makes sure his friends are healthy and happy? Who wards off the dark and depressing thoughts, be it with his fists or a joke?

It’s Ron.

When you think about it, “traditional masculinity” in Harry Potter is as much frowned upon as “traditional feminity” is - which sometimes bites Rowling in the butt when you remember how she obviously seems to consider that Hermione and Ginny are the only desirable kind of girls.

Vernon Dursley? The entrepreneur “king of the household” prejudiced suburbian middle-class Dad? Fits in the usual tropes of traditional masculinity.

Dudley Dursley? The typical “boys will be boys” spoiled middle-class only child who’s the apple of his parents’ eyes and even takes up boxing, as if he wasn’t traditionally masculine enough.

Draco Malfoy? See Dudley, but toss in “upper-class posh aristocrat bully who doesn’t like to get his hands dirty so he has henchmen do it for him because he’s too rich for this sh-t”, would remind you of a few Christian Greys or Gatsbys.

Dolores Umbridge? Oh no, cat pictures, decorative plates, talks to teens as if they’re babies and PINK, SO MUCH PINK!!! So disgustingly feminine!!

Rowling very much frowns upon traditional gender roles - with Molly Weasley being an exception because Rowling feels very strongly about being a mother, and relates to Molly a lot.

Right - so, being a beautiful mess of paradoxes and contradictions (a “soft boi” who also punches bullies in the face, a fussy mother-hen who swears like a sailor, a tall athlete with badass scars on his arms who’s nurturing and sweet; in short, a wonderfully human character), Ron is obviously going to be a polarizing character. You painfully relate to him and get defensive when he’s criticized, you feel his characterization hits a bit too close to home so you hate him, or you disregard him completely because you can’t see anything “special” about him…

Now, onto another very, very sexist point that is often made.

People say that Hermione “deserves better” than Ron, often claiming that they “aren’t intellectual equals”, then citing Harry (who is mistaken as being some sort of slumbering genius but honestly, the kid is really a bit daft) or Draco (since apparently, being rich must equal to being intelligent) or, god forbid, Snape (because he’s a teacher and teachers are meant to be clever).

Soooo, I could go the loooooong way and pull out all the receipts that prove that none of these characters are perfectly intellectually matched to Hermione…

Or I could go the long way and simply give you this: this obsession with finding an “intellectual equal” for Hermione reflects the mentality of “women are not allowed to be better at something than their husband”.

Yep.

A woman has to be all-around pretty good at everything, whereas a man has to be the absolute best in his area of greatest competence (surely better than any puny female!) with a help-meet there to compensate for his weaknesses. People are very, very uncomfortable when Ron and Hermione reverse this dynamic. Hermione is extremely intelligent and dedicated to intellectual pursuits, but is complete pants at things like self-care and people skills. Ron is bright enough to keep up with her and strong in her areas of weakness.

Even if Ron was as dumb as a sack of rocks (he’s not), his other virtues are more than enough to “justify” Hermione loving him. (Because she needs an excuse?) But no. A woman has to be with a man who outdoes her in her area of greatest strength. - credit to @lytefoot

People don’t want Hermione to be with a man who’s her “equal.” They want her to be with a man who can be The Man so she can know the contentment of being The Woman.

But, with this sexist line of thought, how do we justify how Ron is supposed to be such a bad match for Hermione? Because if it was just about mere sexism, Romione would surely be more popular. Imagine! Ron happily raising the children, being a house-husband and proud of it, while Hermione is out there fighting for justice in the wizarding world! What a power-couple, defying norms and gender roles and not being the least bit conscious of it, prime OTP material for sure! So why do people still want Hermione to put Harry, Draco, or god forbid², Snape in Ron’s place? Is this an irrational hatred of redheads? An Harmionian’s delirious wet dream? A failure to separate the actors from their characters?

It’s all this and, quite frankly, something more: the inherent classism that comes with Ron’s status as an explicitly working-class coded character.

I know, I know, “Vivian! Calm down with the buzzwords, you’re starting to sound like an online pretend-feminist magazine!”

Or “Come on, people who don’t ship Ron and Hermione together aren’t all sexist or classist!”

Of course, of course! I know that! I’m not implying that!

But some of the “reasons” why they claim that Ron and Hermione can’t work - are extremely classist in nature, that’s just it!

Come on, think about it! What are the Number Ones arguments people always pull against Ron? Or the most common Ron-bashing tropes (look at fanfics and watch the number of stories that use at least one of those)?

Ron is stupid/mediocre

Ron is lazy/useless

Ron resents his wife’s hard work/success

Ron is a homophobe

Ron is a drunkard

Ron (the big prude who at 16 had never kissed a girl and sees a first kiss as the prelude to a wedding) is massively oversexed and cheats on Hermione with anything that moves

Not only do these “reasons” completely ignore ALL OF RON’S CHARACTERIZATION - except for the “lazy” bit but come off it, all teenagers are lazy and Hermione’s the exception to the rule - but it matches perfectly with the negative stereotypes associated with working-class white men in fiction.

It’s also very funny to note how many (assumedly middle-class or financially secure) fans look down on Ron for being “whiny” or “greedy” when he expresses the desire to have money of his own, or blame his parents for “not knowing when to stop” or “being irresponsible”, or even look down on them for being “too proud to accept help”!! Also how shocked people are when Ron dares to stand up for himself when Hermione or Harry act badly towards him. How dare this country boy not listen to the wisdom of his social “betters”?

So, obviously, because our Heroine can’t go with a Nasty, Mediocre Working-Class Man, she must be paired off with someone of Proper Status: say, a Hero that was raised in a middle-class home and might be a bit psychologically damaged but it’s nothing all those gold coins in his vault can’t fix; or this Rich Posh Aristocrat who actively rooted for her death, he’s a little bit eccentric and has some exotic pet-names to call you, but I’m sure you’ll learn to love him and will unearth the gold coins in his bank account… I mean, the heart of gold that lies within the surface; oh, why not a Way Too Big An Age Difference Teacher if you’re looking for a “cultured man” who has zero things in common with you; we can also bring Convenient Plot Device Famous Rich Foreign Athlete if you want some diversity and you don’t feel original!

But we can’t - oh, we mustn’t let her be with this Terrible Working-Class Boy! His brothers are fine, they have money, they have jobs, so they’re obviously Not As Mediocre. But let our precious Hermione be with this Just-Got-Out-Of-School hooligan? She can’t possibly be in love with him! You’ll see darling, you’ll get bored eventually! He’s too mediocre for you, you deserve a man who outclasses you - I mean, who can provide for you! You’re a fragile little flower who scars people for life when she’s not happy with them, what makes you think that this boy can possibly handle you even though he’s done so for the past seven years?

You wanted it, you got it.

People are shallow, have misconceptions about Ron’s character that they are unwilling to correct or use classist and sexist arguments to try to make it so that either Ron is the Devil himself / Hermione is a higher kind of being that can only orgasm if sufficiently “intellectually stimulated” / what-have-you.

#vivi answers #ask #ron weasley #hermione granger #romione #ron weasley defense squad #ron weasley defence squad #sexism #classism #hp meta #fandumb #hp fandom

[talesofphantombandits]

Zero to Six ~ An Unexpected Visitor - Edited version. Part 2.

Characters: Four X Zero (OC)  Summary: Zero was the first person to be ‘saved’ by One, she was his first honorary Ghost. Her knowledge in tech meant she got the role of ‘Hacker’ she recruited new team members, looked for missions and locations and made sure every security measure was looked at. You know normal hacker spy stuff. But her tough up bringing meant that if needs be she could fight, she was maybe even better than some people on the team knew. But due to One’s protectiveness over her she had to stay hidden, she was more of an actual ghost than the rest of the team was. This didn’t mean she couldn’t have her fun though, over the months of being with the full team she had formed quite a passionate love/ hate relationship with the handsome Four. Who knows what sparks would fly if they were ever to meet.  Warnings: Slight swearing, some suggestive flirting in later chapters.

Tagg list: (I know this is a edit of my original story but if anyone wants to be tagged let me know.) @raylan-c​​

Zero to Six ~ Part 1. Edited Version Zero to Six ~ Part 3. Edited Version. Masterlist.  

“Hey, anyone there?” 

To say Zero was a mess would have been a big understatement. After she had shut off the coms she must have sobbed for a good thirty minutes before she picked herself up from the floor and decided that a glass of rum would help calm her nerves.  She knew that One would take his sweet time reaching out to her again, and wouldn’t let the others contact her either. So she waited, he mind was reeling but she knew technically Six’s death wasn’t her fault. She still felt to a degree that if she hadn’t of picked him he would still be breathing somewhere, maybe with the love of his life on a nice sandy beach.  But then again if she hadn’t of picked him she would have had to pick someone else, and that someone else would have been in that car dead instead of Six. 

So when Fours voice travelled through her speakers she immediately shot up from the floor, leaving her half filled glass where it sat and tripped her way over to the laptop.  Picking up her headset she tried not to sound so distraught. “Four, never thought i’d be so happy to hear your whinny little voice.” She tried to sound lighthearted but failed miserably. 

She could tell that he was also trying to mask how much he was hurting. “How are you Zero?” She was shocked, out of all the team Four and Six seemed to have bonded the most, probably due to their similar ages and interests. 

“How- how am I? Four, how are you doing? Out of us all you were the closest to Six.” She wanted to do nothing more than hug this man right now. 

“One just threw him into the sea, like he meant nothing. I really don’t want to talk about it right now Zero or I might just go out there and strangle One. But I wanted to at least make sure that you were okay.” Her heart started to beat so fast she thought it would beat right out of chest. He was worried about her in a time when he should have been worrying about himself. 

“I’m sure that’s not how it was, One cares about us deeply. But I’ll respect your wishes and we won’t speak about it, but I’ll be here when you’re ready to so. As for me, I’m fine. Shaken up but fine, You don’t have to worry about me Four.” 

“I know sometimes it doesn’t seem like it, but I do really care for you Zero. So do the rest of the team, but you tell any of them I said that and I’ll find out where One keeps you and murder you in your sleep.” 

She chuckled at the empty threat. “Yeah, good luck with that one. One would never give up my location willing or not. Plus what makes you think I’d succumb so easily with out a fight.” 

She heard the deep chuckle and knew some smart ass comment would follow it. “Believe me darling, from the moment I step through your door you’d be falling at my feet.” 

“OKAY as much as I’m glad to have the old cocky Four back, I’m cutting you off now. Get some sleep you idiot.” 

“Okay mummy.” He said in a mocking tone. 

She couldn’t help it and decided she would have the last laugh. “Is that one of your kinks Four?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know? Maybe we can carry on this conversation when we meet.” She knew he was smirking. “Night Zero, dream of me. I know I’ll be dreaming of you.” 

She couldn’t say another word so she just shut down coms and slammed her laptop shut. “Stupid little shit,” Why did he make her feel like this, especially when he wasn’t here to do anything about it. 

She leaned back on her chair, stretching out her arms over her head her back clicked in several places which made it feel so much better. She needed to put a reminder on her fridge to do a work out tomorrow, she was starting to become so stiff sat at her computer all the time.  There were parts of her that really yearned to be out in the field with the rest of the team, even if it was only a one time experience, who knows she might hate it and want to come back to her stuffy flat life. Who was she kidding, she wanted adventure and a little bit of risk here and there and she wanted her family.  She would however have to have a little conversation with One about the safety of the team and about treating them better. Her heart had broken hearing how fragile Four could be. They might have been ghosts but underneath they were still human beings with feelings, and if One was going to crush that then she had a problem with it.  

Maybe that was why she was so interested in Four? 2 years with only One as her only physical human contact and it was starting to take a toll on her, Four challenged her every time they spoke. And she loved a good challenge. She sat at her desk for two more hours, despite scolding herself for sitting too long that her bones began to ache. But she had research to do which consisted of finding a new team member and the faster she got it done the faster she could send it off to One and she could stop beating herself up about potentially bringing in a new person just for them to die like Six did. After a while she decided that she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer. She sent the research to One, saved all the documents then shut her laptop down and proceeded to walk to the bathroom to take a nice long hot shower. 

The warm water calmed her immensely, when she stepped out and put on her silk pyjamas she felt even more sleepy then she did when she was in front of the laptop. As soon as her head hit the pillow she drifted off to sleep. 

.........

She shot up in bed, heart racing.

The loud banging coming from the front door was real, she hadn’t just dreamt it. She suddenly thought of Four’s threat from earlier but quickly shook it from her head. Don’t be stupid, It can’t be Four. Her eyes snapped to her bedside table to see 3am blaring on the digital clock. “What the actual hell, who decides to go bang on someone’s door at stupid o’clock in the morning?!” 

She grabbed her gun from under her pillow, pointing it out in front of her, she was in full on attack mode. She exited her room and headed down the hall and towards the front door, all the while sticking to the walls.  She waited a while, gun pointing towards the centre of the door maybe whoever had knocked got the wrong flat and moved on. But then just as she started to lower the gun the door rattled and the knocking began again, only louder this time.

“Zero! open up its One.” 

Zero cocked her head to the side, was he actually serious?  She carefully walked towards the door, gun still raised. Peeking through the peephole she confirmed that it was in fact One at her door. She sighed rubbing her tired eyes but opened the door just wide enough so he could slip in. 

“Hey!” He made himself at home straightaway, walking past her to go sit on her couch.

She shut the door making sure it was locked, she then made her way to stand in front of him but not before setting down the gun on the coffee table. “Don’t ‘Hey!’ me you dumb ass, what the hell are you doing here?!” 

“Nice gun! is that new?” He leaned forward and inspected the weapon. 

Was he being serious right now? “ONE!” He’d woke her up just to come and annoy her? “I asked you a question.” 

“I came to give you your plane ticket.” He stood up slightly and pulled a ticket out of his back pocket, he extended his arm out to Zero. 

She took it off of him and examined it, it was a ticket back home. Home was also where their base camp was.  “You never come to give me my plane ticket in person, what’s really going on? Is this about Six?” 

He just rubbed his face in frustration, the first real emotion she’d seen from him since he’d entered her living space. “Can you at least get me a drink before we discuss this?” 

She just sighed and looked towards her kitchen. “I only have rum.” 

“Then we shall have rum!” She just rolled her eyes but continued through to the little kitchen. If she was going to stay awake through this she might as well poor herself a small glass as well. 

She handed him the glass and then settled herself in the seat across from him. “So, talk.” 

She took a sip of her drink but very nearly spit it out when he spoke. “I want you in the field for the next mission.” 

A thousand thoughts crashed through her mind all at once, that she found it hard to focus on One as he continued to speak. She was going to get her adventure, she was going to get to show the whole team that she wasn’t just some computer nerd, she was going to be able to breath the same air as Four, she was going to be meeting her family. 

“Zero! Did you hear me?” She looked to One who had leaned forward in his chair. 

“What?” 

“God I hope you weren’t dreaming up the perfect scenario of finally meeting Four.” 

She was still in shock but managed to ask. “Did you just say that I’m finally going out in the field?” 

“Just the once, with Six gone we need all the help we can get in the next mission and you are my best eyes and ears.” He looked so calm just sat there sipping from his glass when she was sat opposite him freaking out. “You will keep your identity a secret though, none of the team is to know that you’re there.” 

Just like that One had given her, her deepest wish and then crushed it right in front of her. “How will that work? They will know the sound of my voice anywhere.” 

“Not if you put on a accent.” This was cruel, even by One’s standards. “Listen it’s for the best that you don’t interact with any of them. You’re lucky that you have full anonymity.” 

“What if I don’t want that? What if I actually want to meet the only family I’ve ever had? I don’t get why you lock me away from them.”  

“It’s for your own safety, you’ll thank me one day. Look at what happened to Six, do you want to end up like that?” 

She was seething now. “You really hurt them today you know, Four got in touch with me. He wanted to see if I was okay after what happened to Six.” She had to pause to stop herself before her voice broke.

“I know you want us all to work as a team but some how distance ourselves from one another. We all maybe faked our deaths but were still human One, it’s human nature to care deeply for those that are closest to us.” The tears were welling up in her eyes now. “You just tossed him off the side of that boat like he was nothing. Is that what you’re going to do to the rest of us?” 

He just stared at her for a long second then necked his drink and slammed the glass down on the table next to where the gun still laid. She didn’t even flinch, instead she stared him down. 

“I think it’s time for me to go.” She just scoffed and looked down at her hands that were placed in her lap, she couldn’t look him in the eyes anymore. “I looked through your research before I came here.” 

He got up from the couch but didn’t make any move to the door. “I think Blaine is the perfect fit for number Seven. As soon as I land on home turf I’m going to recruit him and introduce him to the team. In a months time I’ll contact you with a meeting place to discuss your field work.” 

“Great, another person I picked for you that you’re going to rip from their family and make their life hell.” He didn’t say another word and she didn’t look up from her lap. 

All she heard was his footsteps walking towards the door, it swinging open and then slamming shut again. Once she was completely certain he had gone her head fell in her hands.  She rubbed her face and felt a sweeping wave of sleepiness draw over her, she stood up and picked up the gun that was still on the coffee table. She made her way to the door to lock it properly, she then made her way back to bed and placed the gun back under her pillow. She hoped that just as before the tiredness would over take her and she would fall into an effortless slumber, but as she laid her head gently on the pillow and closed her eyes all she could see was Six’s lifeless body and all she could think about was how she’d put him there. 

No way was she getting back to sleep.  

#6 underground #6 underground fanfiction #6 underground four #6 underground fanfic #6 underground billy #four #four fanfic #four fanfiction #billy fanfiction #billy #billy x reader #billy x oc #four x reader #four x oc #four x zero #billy x scout

[samanthalightning]

She's Got A Date-EoWells X Allen!reader- Part IV

*The GIF is not mine. All rights to the owner*

Part III

Summary: After getting wasted last night, you meet up with Barry and he offered you some advices. Based 1x03

Warnings: None. Just a tad angsty.

***

Extremely groggy, currently having a mind-splitting headache and has the worst case of hungover, it was a miracle that you woke up early— well, thanks to your siren-like alarm. You hate yourself for drinking like a viking and like your liver regenerates like Barry.

Last night was a blur— or at least the part you got home. You blacked out. You have absolutely zero recollection of how you ended up in your bed, in your pyjamas, and your car parked the wrong way. You figured you drank and drove, you might have someone to do with that one. You are so lucky no one caught or Joe would've made sure you won't see the light of day. But everything prior that was still very much intact in your mind. Everything.

You were supposed to meet up with Barry for breakfast today at Jitters. You were headed there anyway for some coffee. It's not far from your apartment, which was nice, because you don't trust yourself with driving hungover as much as driving drunk.

When you arrived at Jitters, Barry was already there. He waved as his eyes caught you entering. You smiled in return. You went to him, put your bag on the floor and took a seat on the stool. Cups of coffee were on the table, it seemed like Barry had already gone through half of his coffee.

"I already ordered for you," he said. "And I got you this ham and cheese sandwich from that bodega." He placed a brown paper bag in front of you.

"Thanks," you mumbled, taking a sip of the coffee. You rummaged through the bag, and took the foil-covered sandwich. It was still warm. Your favorite bodega was all the way downtown. It's a trip to get those treats, which is why you almost never get them. Thank God for Barry and his super speed.

You quickly removed the foil and took a large bite. You groaned happily as you chew. Coffee and greasy sandwich; it was heavenly and bitter. It hits the right spots, it feels as though a part of your soul re-entered your body.

Thank God for Barry and him knowing you so well.

Barry chuckled amusedly at your reaction. "Had some fun last night?" He teased, pointing to your sunglasses covering your eyes.

In your defense, it was very bright outside today.

You rolled your eyes, not that he can see through the lens— or can he? You didn't know. "Just had a few drinks with Iris," you said.

He nodded, half convinced, took a sip of his coffee. "Once upon a time I was falling in love but now I'm falling apart," he sang in a low voice, but enough for your heightened hearing to hear.

Your head quickly jerked up to him, eyes mortified. "How did you know that?" You whispered. Your thoughts ran wildly. Maybe someone took a video of you drunk as hell, and maybe you're trending on all social media platforms or maybe you became a meme.

He shrugged, pursing his lips. "I don't know, you belted those notes in the streets last night,"

Perplexed, you look at him, and it's like he was waiting for something to click while smirking devilishly. Then it dawned on you. All of those questions you asked earlier were answered. He took you home. Which makes sense why he got these sandwiches for you.

"Oh my God," you groaned, burying your face in your hands, cheeks turned into a dark shade of red. Though, you still remember nothing.

Barry laughed hysterically. He loved teasing you so hard.

"Yeah. You called me last night, begging me to pick you up, because you're too drunk to drive," he said as his laughing ceased. "You both refused to enter the car. You started screaming, giggling like 5-year olds. I was lucky the street was dead."

Oh poor Barry. You can imagine, he must be so embarrassed.

It was a relief that even if you're drunk, you didn't risk driving. Maybe you're not as hopeless as you think you are.

Still, you dwelled in your embarrassment.

"So, who is it?" He asked. You look up to him again, eyebrows furrowed with once again cluelessness and confusion. You had a hunch what he was talking about, but it's always safe to pretend you don't know. It can't hurt them. He looked at you incredulously. "Come on, Y/N. You were talking the whole car ride. About some guy, and how things are so complicated and you were tired of it. I've never seen you like that before—"

"—clearly haven't seen me in a frat party before," you snickered, taking off your glasses.

"I'm serious. What is that about?" He insisted firmly, anticipation and a squint of frustration was evident in his face.

You grimaced, mentally hissing at yourself. You couldn't just zip your mouth and reveal your secret. Might as well announce it.

You messed up. You can lie, but what's the point? He's Barry. If he's anything, that's persistent. He tried breaking in Iron Heights.

"I'm dating someone," you confessed.

Barry blinked, clearly caught off guard with your confession. He expected it, but what surprised him is that you hid it from him. He stuttered for a while, before he was able to form a coherent sentence. "Oh. Okay. What happened?"

You sighed, looking down at the table. You took another bit of your sandwich, taking your time to chew. Contemplating whether to elaborate. It's pretty heavy to unload, you didn't expect telling your brother you're dating someone so secretly. And for sure he won't be able to take it all at once. You have to be vague.

"He—he doesn't want anyone to know we're dating, because there are certain consequences that come with it," you explained. It felt foreign to talk about your love life. For the past 6 months, you kept it all to yourself. The bad, the good. You bottled it up inside.

He raised an eyebrow, concern crossed his features. "And you're comfortable with this?"

"At first. But then it felt restricted and suffocating," you explained.

"Did you talk to him about this?"

You nodded. "Yes. He wasn't very convinced. I honestly don't know what to do," you huffed, slumping your shoulder.

It ain't rocket science to figure how deeply i troubled you. It breaks his heart that his little sister is going through some stuff, and she was going through it alone.

"Talk some more. Be honest of what you're really feeling," you thought was pretty rich and ironic coming from him. "You're part of this relationship as much as he is. You have a say in this, and if you don't feel like this isn't working out for you, then maybe you shouldn't be in it at all."

His words hit you like a brick— thousands of bricks hitting you all at once, if you're being accurate. It hurts, because it was right. It hurts, because it deeply matters. You felt the sting in your heart, your jaw tightened. You don't want to think about it, but he's got a point.

Barry was worried with your lack of response, as you think deeply in the distance. "I'm not saying break up with him, okay? I'm just saying this is something you should really talk about and consider. You can't bottle it all up." He doesn't want to screw up his sister's love life or push her to do something that might hurt her, but not exactly disregarding the advice he made.

When he's not being a total dork, he's pretty wise.

You pressed your lips is a hard line, taking it all in. "I know," you murmured.

You weren't able to say anything after that. So did he. It was some heavy weight of emotional stuff to unload to your brother. Your hungover was gone, and who knew these kinds of talks are better than coffee and grease.

Barry decided to break the silence. "This explains so much," he laughed and so did you. You weren't pretty subtle. "Do I know him?" He quirked an eyebrow.

You hesitated, but it's not like Wells' is the first that will come to his mind. Gradually, you nodded. "Yes. But I'm not gonna say who!"

"He isn't someone like Oliver Queen, right?" He half-joked, but deep inside he meant it.

You almost spat your drink. "No!"

Barry went to the precinct, and you headed to S.T.A.R Labs.

You tried to act as normal as possible, even though what Barry said deeply affected you. Thank God Caitlin arrived before you, so you wouldn't have to deal with interactions with him.

You couldn't still believe how much emotion you felt last night; how intense it is. You minded it, but you didn't think you would actually get drunk about it. You have no idea how to deal with it, and if it's the right time to deal with it. You can't go on and help your brother save the city, while your mind is filled with thoughts about him.

Right now, you choose the city.

As soon as Cisco arrived, which wasn't very long, you worked on finishing the pipeline.

It wasn't easy though, you worked on the same thing, be in the same room, act like you didn't get hammered because of him last night. Every time you spare him a glance, and he would look back and he would smile, having no idea what you were going through, it would break your heart just a little bit more. Each minute that you let your feelings be unknown, Barry's words sink into you furthermore. But it occurred to you that the reasons why it was hard were also the reasons why you should keep it together.

The prison was done before lunch. He and Cisco worked over-overtime last night, so there wasn't really much to do, but set it up. It came up together well; durable, functional. The cells slightly look like pods, and given Francisco Ramon's obsession with Star Wars, it makes sense. The test run will happen when 'The Mist' is captured, since Barry doesn't want to participate. But rest assured, you and Cisco worked on it very hard to make sure it works.

Now with the biggest task done, the only thing left to do is go through a bunch of workload and have lunch.

"Hey, Caitlin and I are gonna grab lunch, wanna come?" Cisco asked, putting his coat on. "It's that new place that serves amazing cheap steaks and burgers,"

You realized that the place he was talking about was the very restaurant that you told Wells.

You shook your head. "No, you guys go. I already ordered some food." You smiled, declining.

"Okay, your lost. That place is amazing," he elaborated, clearly pleased with the place. It's Cisco, though. And food.

You snorted, turning your eyes back to the computer. "As I heard," you murmured underneath your breath with a tinge of bitterness, as Cisco strided out of the cortex.

On the bright side, someone from this place already went there. But much to your dismay, it wasn't you.

Your phone dinged. You picked it up to check, and it's what you have been waiting for. The delivery guy is right outside the lab. You quickly headed down to pick it up. You gave the delivery guy some tip, before excitedly went back inside.

You were salivating when the intoxicating smell of Chinese food filled your nostrils.

When you got up, Wells was there. He took a waft of the take-out foods. "Is that from Mann-Lee?" His eyes lit up in recognition. He was the one who introduced you to the restaurant. He said it's the only Chinese place he likes, because it tasted like the food he had in Shanghai. Of course, he's been to China.

You nodded, placing it on the desk. You quickly took out every box of food in the bag, and dug into your chow mein happily and satisfied, not bothering to take a seat.

"Did you order some for me?" He asked.

Unable to speak due to your mouth being filled with noodles and potstickers, you nodded. "It's in the box," he chuckled at your attempt to speak.

He helped himself and rummaged inside the bag's remaining contents. Upon opening one, his face fell, seemingly disappointed. He opened another box only to be disappointed again. He was looking for something specific. Your wonder started to grow, watching him.

He turned to you, and you raised an eyebrow. "Did you order some of their Beef Broccoli?"

"No. Did you want that?" You inquired.

"Yeah." He forced a half-smile, waving his fingers dismissively. "It's okay. I'm fine with Kung Pao Chicken; it's decent enough,"

For some reason, your mood soured. Decent in Harrison Wells' vocabulary means it's not good enough; he doesn't hate it, but he doesn't love either. You felt bad that you didn't know what he actually likes, but in your defense, he never says, and he lets you eat it. He never complained.

"You don't have to eat it if you don't like it," you said. You didn't want to watch him suffer eating something he doesn't like while you enjoy your own lunch.

"No, it's fine," he assured you.

"No, Harry. I mean it— you don't have to eat it," you insisted with more vigor in your tone.

He ignored you, and took a bite of the chicken. You scoffed in disbelief, frustration fueled in your chest. You want to stop him as he continues eating, but you decided against it. It's too petty to get angry about, not worth it.

You eat your lunch in peace, every time you turn to Wells, he would wince every now and then when he takes a bite. You don't know what about Kung Pao Chicken he doesn't like, but he doesn't just like it. You tried to let him go through it, but you're starting to get annoyed. And of course, you couldn't stop yourself.

"Okay, stop," you suddenly spoke, putting your food aside. "You don't have to eat, you don't like it." You tried to grab the food out of his grasp, but he swerved swiftly.

"Y/N, I said it's fine!" Wells said, displeased at your attempt to take his food away.

"It's not! You don't look fine— you don't like it!" Your voice rose a little.

He exhaled audibly. "It's just food,"

"I know it's just Kung Pao Chicken that I ordered that you don't like, so just admit it and stop eating!" You spat.

He scoffed in disbelief. "What is wrong with you? I am eating it!"

"But that's the point!" You snapped loudly. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do— you never do!"

Realizing what you've said, you shut your eyes. Your hands flew to each side of your head, fingers weaved through your hair, tugging on them. You needed to calm down and take breath, and be rational. The last you want to do is do something reckless and irrational.

"Is there something wrong?" He questioned firmly.

You mentally grimaced at the question. It was a stupid question; it's basically screaming at his face. "Nothing," you muttered.

Of course he didn't buy it. You weren't exactly selling it well. Or at all.

"It's something. You're enraged over food," You don't honestly know how he can keep his tone down, but it was evident he was agitated. You hate it so much right now.

You sighed wearily, refusing to face him. Afraid of what might happen if you do.

"Let it go, Wells," you pleaded through your gritted teeth and clenched jaw.

"No. I'm not gonna stop until this is settled. Tell me, what's wrong? Did something happen?"

He continued on, pushing you to speak. The idea of unloading all of your hidden burdens entered your mind, but you don't have the emotional capacity to face the fact that this is taking a toll on you. You tried to hold your ground, but his voice overwhelmed you.

You pushed your chair back, getting on your feet and facing him.

"Everything is wrong, Harrison!" You shouted, your voice boomed inside. Wells almost flinched. "Everything is wrong with us!"

Wells shook his head, baffled. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I can't take this any longer,"

"Can't take what?"

"This—" you gestured to you and him. "—This arrangement we made!"

Wells sighed, distressed, catching on what you were saying. "I thought you were okay with this,"

You chewed on your bottom lip, as you folded your arms across your chest. When you spoke, your voice dropped into a whisper; you couldn't control it. "I thought so too. Then last night, Iris vented out to me." You paused. You struggled to keep it together, now pressing your tightly folded arms on your chest. You continued. "They were having problems, same as us. I gave her some insights about everything, and then I realized that's how I feel!"

The underlying problem he thought he got handled was more intense than he thought. Time was running, you couldn't pick more of an impeccable timing, and the team could waltz in anytime while you were having this fight. He couldn't afford anyone finding out about it.

He took off his glasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Y/N, this is not the time for this," he said.

You snorted, your anger erupted in your veins. You were tired of avoiding the elephant in the room.

"When is the perfect time? When it's too late? When we break up?" You didn't want to say it, but it was at the tip of your tongue, waiting to be asked ever since you realized it.

His expression hardened. You already see the gears working. "Y/N, don't go there," he murmured, not glancing up to you.

"Why?" Your voice cracked into an almost sob. That was it. The tears found their way and pool at the rim of your eyes. "I tried to make myself believe that I understand, but I couldn't help but think that maybe you're scared that if things don't work out you won't have to deal with other people, thinking that you slept with a 24-year old girl."

Soon, every emotion you were feeling last night came rushing back to you; the confusion, the anger, the love and the pain— towards him and yourself. It seeped, not only to your heart, but through your very bones and weary soul. All too soon it became overwhelming, your chest tightening, your stomach knotting, struggling to keep it at bay.

Thinking it was one thing, but saying was a whole new realm of pain you didn't know you existed, let alone capable of feeling.

He glanced up to you, eyes staring into you meaningfully. "I would never think that. I made so many enemies, Y/N. Before and after the accelerator exploded. The last thing those people want is to see me happy and that puts you in danger," he reasoned.

You tried to steady your shaky voice. "I know. But your reasons and your excuses, they won't matter in the long run. The press, Joe, our friends, my brother— everything they say won't matter to me, because they're not the ones who loves you like I do, and they're not the one in a relationship with you." You told him, staring back, before turning away, as they threatened to fall.

You inhaled sharply. "I love you, Harrison Wells. And no matter what they say about us or you or me, I'll love you. Damn, you put my brother in a 9-month coma, but I loved you nonetheless!" You pointed your index finger at him in the air.

He let you speak, taking it all, as waiting for you to finish, let it all out and explain his side. And then, you'll be swept off your feet again, as if all of your feelings and thoughts didn't exist in your mind before. Barry was right. You couldn't believe you were getting to this point, but he was right.

"But I don't wanna hide anymore. I want to do more. Be free. If you don't want anyone to know that this relationship is happening, then maybe we shouldn't happen at all," You stated.

You both were silent, the tension was thick and you could cut a knife through it. Suddenly you couldn't move, like all of your energy was drained from your body.

You turned away before you could see his reaction. The pain was unbearable; it's best if you don't see it.

Mustering all the courage and strength you have left and your body, you took a step to leave the room. He tried to stop you by reaching out, but you recoiled, before his fingertips graze your skin.

"Don't,"

You strided out of the cortex, your shoulder straightened, held up high to hold your tears, but every step you take, the control you have dissipates. Slowly, your tears overflowed. You wiped the tears, though it didn't make any difference, your tears fell and fell, soaking your neck. Soon, all hell broke loose, sobs racked your body, your hands flew to your mouth to muffle your voice.

Wells was left with nothing, but the sound of your footsteps received, your muffled sob through the walls; thousands thoughts and emotions, and the weight of your words.

***

My parents are fighting. This one made me genuinely sad. Anyway, I'd really appreciate it if you share this and give it some love. Thanks!

Part V

#Harrison Wells #Harrison Wells x reader #Harrison Wells x Allen! reader #Harrison Wells fanfiction #Harrison Wells imagine #Harry Wells #Harry Wells x reader #Harry Wells fanfiction #Harry Wells imagine #EoWells #EoWells x reader #EoWells x Allen!reader #EoWells fanfiction #EoWells imagine #Eobard Thawne #Eobard Thawne x reader #Eobard Thawne fanfiction #Eobard Thawne imagine #Tom Cavanagh #Tom Cavanagh x reader #Tom Cavanagh fanfiction #Tom Cavanagh imagine #The Flash #The Flash fanfiction #The Flash imagine #Barry Allen x reader #Cisco Ramon x reader #Caitlin Snow x reader #Iris West x reader #lightninghasstruck

[elladescent449-artspace]

It started with the milk: Chapter 2 - Breakfast and a brawl

Breakfast and a Brawl

Leo awoke to the violent clatter of pots and pans. Despite the stiffness, the sleep was still there with him, desperately trying to drag him back into a dream that he couldn’t remember. When another bang sounded, he turned over with a groan and covered his head with his sheets. The movement triggered a soreness in his shoulders, and he very suddenly became aware of the growing crick in his neck. With another quiet growl he turned over again, trying to alleviate some of the unwelcome aches and pains. He stilled, focussing on the warmth of his sheets and the sound of his own breathing. It was still raining. Aside from the noise from the kitchen he could still hear the blurred whir of New York’s spring rainfall.  Leo heard a quiet boom of thunder and he remembered those quiet noises from the night before, although they were definitely more of a distant hush now that the morning was here. With the adjustment of his body and the warmth of his sheets, Leo began drifting off again. It was slow and comfortably heavy as he sank back into a sleep-like state, he felt warm and comfortable, and he slowly began to forget that he was ever awake in the first place.

Leo twitched at the combination of a heavy slam accompanied by a shout. It ripped him into a sitting position and he groaned, forcing himself out of bed and taking his blanket with him.

--

Mikey was already dressed for the day, and by dressed, Leo meant that he was out of pyjamas and wearing his favorite belt. Mikey’s phone was leaning on the cereal box and was plugged into a pair of earphones that trailed into his head. He multitasked eating his cereal while watching a video, swinging his legs cheerily as he giggled on whatever was on screen. He noticed Leo and removed one of his earbuds.

“Good morning, Leo!” He said with a smile. Mikey watched as Leo trudged into the kitchen.

Leo’s voice was a barely coherent mumble, “m’rnin.”

The source of this morning's clammer was found not too far from the door, where Raph had squeezed himself halfway into the bottom cabinet. He was on his knees and surrounded by an explosion of pots, pans, plastic tupperware, and glass and metal bowls.As Leo carefully stepped through the mess, Raph noticed him.

“Oh, hey!” Raph shot up too fast and hit his head on the top of the cabinet with a bang that was even louder than the ones Leo had woken up to. He rubbed his head and excited the cabinet with a glowing smile, “morning Leo.”

Leo replied with a grumble as he walked past him. “What are you looking for?”

“I’m looking for that Lou Jistsu ‘Hot Soup’ bowl that dad was using the other day, y’know, the red and yellow one?” 

Leo yawned, “you mean the really big one or the one the size of a shot glass?”

Raph used his hands to illustrate the size, “the REALLY big one.”

Leo shuffled further into the kitchen, “why do you want that?”

Leo blindly opened the fridge and reached for the juice bottle, he grasped it by the neck but pulled up too hard, sending his hand rocketing into the top of the fridge. Someone had put the empty orange juice bottle back in the fridge. He turned to Mikey who gleefully sipped at the last of it. With a sigh he chucked the empty bottle into the garbage. Dad’s teakettle was still on the un-lit backburner so he shuffled to the stove, slid the kettle forward, and cranked on the heat. 

“Okay,” Raph started, “so I was watching Lou Jitsu’s ‘Lou Jitsu’s Soba Showdown’ and Lou eats that 25 gallon bowl of Soba to gain the trust of the Mafia leader, before doing a double betrayal and defeating the bad guys, remember?”

“I recall,” Leo was feeling peppermint today so with another yawn he popped open the box and took a packet, (he was getting low on the mint, might have to put that on the next grocery list). 

“Right,” Raph’s excitement grows, “so I’m gonna do that.” 

“Meet up with the mafia??”

“No, eat the Soba!”

“25 gallons?” Leo exclaims as he returns to the fridge and takes a lemon from the drawer. “Of Soba?” He cut it open with a knife that was already on the counter and squeezed some juice into the mug.

“Yeah!” Raph dives back into the cabinet and another few bowls slip out onto the floor. “So I need to find that bowl, because it’s the biggest one we’ve got.”

“Wait,” Mikey interjects as he removes one of his earbuds again, “Raph, what are you looking for?”

“The Lou Jitsu bowl!” The set of copper bowls falls from the cabinet with a ringing clang, bummer, those are Dad’s favorites.

“Which one,” Mikey asks, “the really big one, the cereal one, or the one the size of a shot glass?”

Raph sticks his head back out from under the cabinets, “cereal one? We have a Lou Jitsu cereal bowl?”

Mikey takes a bite of his cereal, “yeah!” 

“Where?” Raph asks.

Mikey chews a bit before answering, “I’m using it.”

Leo turns to Mikey as he rotates his bowl, sure enough, white and red flames with a cartoonish picture of Lou adorn the dish.

Raph gasps, “how long have we had that?”

Mikey swallows before taking another mouthful of cereal, after a brief pause he answers with a smile, “a while.”

Leo tuned out of the next part of their conversation when the kettle started whistling behind his shell. He turned and quickly switched the stove off. He carefully poured the boiling water into the prepared mug and set Dad’s kettle back on the backburner of the stove to let sit in case he needed it again.

Raph and Mikey were still talking about bowls as Leo began his walk towards the table. Raph had retreated back into the cabinets to continue his dig so Leo bent down quietly and picked up one of the smaller glass bowls before shuffling over to sit across from Mikey at the breakfast table.

“Why can’t I find this bowl?!” 

“The cereal bowl?”

“No!” Raph shouts from the cabinets, “the really big one! Soba Showdown!”

“Oooooh!” Mikey draws the word out with a mouthful of cereal as Leo starts filling his own bowl with breakfast flakes.

“Raph,” Leo loosened the sheets around his shoulders as he became more comfortable with the temperature of the room. The left-over exhaustion from last night was starting to wear off as he began to wake-up. “Are you sure you’re even looking in the right cabinet?”

‘ “This is the bowl cabinet! Why wouldn’t it be in the bowl cabinet?!” Raph’s frustration was rising.

“I keep this bowl in my room,” Mikey had turned off the screen of his phone at this point. He wrapped up his earbuds and took the cereal from Leo to refill his own bowl. “Maybe Dad has it?”

“No, I asked Pop’s last night and he said it was in the bowl cabinet,” he hit his head on the inside of the cabinet again and growled, “with the bowls!”

“What are you looking for?” Leo turned his head as Donnie walked into the kitchen. He was awake and alert, holding a coffee cup.

“Good morning, Donnie,” Mikey took the milk before Leo could use it, “Raph’s looking for the Lou Jitsu bowl.”

“The shot glass or the big one?” Donnie walked over to the coffee machine and detached the pot to refill his mug.

Mikey, Raph, and Leo all said in unison with varying degrees of energy, “the big one.”

“It’s on top of the fridge.”

Leo, Mikey, and Raph all looked to the top of the fridge, where a massive bowl with red and white flames sat filled with potatoes and onions. Donnie sat at the table next to Mikey and took the milk before Leo could grab it, quietly pouring a little in his coffee. 

Raph took a short stack of the largest bowls from the ground and skipped over to the fridge. When Donnie finally sat the jug down, Leonardo grabbed the milk before anyone else could take it and poured it over his cereal. With the milk finally added, he took a few bites. It was Mikey’s favorite too-sweet, marshmallow and wafer bargain-brand cereal that he always asked Dad for. Leo picked up his tea and took a sip to check the temperature, it was still really hot but not painfully so. The lemon and peppermint came through nicely so he took a deeper sip.

Donnie sat his mug down with a smile and pulled out his phone. Mikey zeroed in on the cup.

“Are you drinking choccy milk?!” Mikey squealed.

“What?” Donnie was caught off guard at the sudden, loud question.

“You’ve got chocolate milk?!” Raph shouted from the fridge, trying to balance the large bowl (still full of potatoes and onions) on his shoulders as he took it down.

“No!” Donnie sighed, “you just saw me pour the milk, Mikey, it’s coffee.”

“Aw~” Mikey sighed and plugged his earbuds back in to continue watching his video.

Leonardo took another bite of his cereal and chewed for a few seconds. Donnie took another swallow from his mug, keeping his eyes on the screen of his phone. The night before was a blur. Leonardo remembered waking up exhausted and really wanting to go back to sleep. Messing with Donatello was fun for a million reasons, but this morning, as he sat across the table from him, his cereal was sitting uncomfortably in the bottom of his stomach. Leo picked up his tea and took another sip, eyeing Donnie as he did the same with his own drink. “When did you start putting milk in your coffee?”

Donnie's eyes flicked upwards, “hm?”

“You’ve always taken your coffee black,” Leo took another bite of cereal and looked at the mug in Donnie’s hand, it was the same mug as the night before. With the kitchen lights on he could see it was a purple mug with a picture of Atomic Lass on the side. “When did you start adding milk?”

Donatello put down his mug and attempted to focus back in on his phone, “uhh, just…” he started typing something. “I don’t know… recently?” 

Leo smiled, “what happened to ‘I like my coffee to be as black as my soul.’” Leo deepened his voice at the soul coffee line, teasingly chuckling at Donnie who was looking at him now. He looked confused, studying Leo with an expression that Leo couldn’t recognize on his brother’s face.

“When did I say that,” he scoffed, “milk and coffee go great together.” Donnie swallowed audibly as he finished the last of what was in his mug. He set the cup down again and kept typing on his phone. Leo took another bite of his cereal, he was getting close to the bottom of his bowl now, but he wasn’t as hungry as he usually was so he didn’t think he’d be going for a second bowl. Mikey chuckled with a mouthful of cereal and Donnie looked up again, first at Mikey but then back to Leo with furrowed brows. “Why do you care?”

Leo stopped chewing, “I don’t, I just…” he wasn’t done chewing but he swallowed to clear his mouth. It stuck to his throat. “Making conversation?” Leo picked up his tea and swallowed, trying to move the cereal down. Donnie made another face that Leo didn’t recognize, it still had the inquisitive nature but more… suspicious?

Donnie looked hesitant, picking up his mug again to take another sip before he realized his cup was empty, “I mean, it definitely tastes better.” He left the table, breaking eye contact as he walked towards the coffee machine. 

There was suddenly a small stone forming in his stomach, it wasn’t heavy, but it was there. Leo adjusted his shoulders and sat up trying to get comfortable again. ‘Donnie’s a lot more tired than me,’ the little voice in his head rang. That’s right! Donnie was up before and, supposedly, after Leo had woken up last night working on that secret thing. He must have been drinking coffee non-stop and needed a little change to the bitterness. Leonardo’s tea was room temperature now and he greedily swallowed the rest. He sat the cup down with a loud tap just as Donnie sat down.

He didn’t take the milk this time.

Mikey stood abruptly with a satisfied “wew!” He had finished his cereal and his show, and with a quick stretch he left the table. 

Donatello slowly took a mouthful of his coffee, noticeably trying to stifle the grimace that forced itself on his face as he swallowed. Leo stared for a moment, ‘he’s drunk his coffee black since we were 10,’ the small voice whispered, ‘all those fluorescent lights must’ve killed his taste buds’. The reasoning wasn’t as confident.

Leo had to look away when Donnie’s eyes shifted to him with that bitter-coffee-scowl, it wasn’t Donnie’s, ‘you’re annoying me, brat,’ look, it was resentful and reserved, and it caused a density that reached across the table. Leonardo took another bite of his cereal but the weight in his stomach only deepened under his brother's unfamiliar gaze. He wordlessly pushed the milk towards Donnie.

“I got the bowl!” Raph bellowed, appearing behind the table and holding the themed movie bowl above his head. The dense gaze was immediately alleviated as Donnie was pulled away from the stare of his own making. Leo sighed in relief as Donnie took the milk and unscrewed the top.

Mikey put his bowl in the sink, “Raph, why do you need a Lou Jitsu bowl the size of a bathtub anyway?”

“He wants to try and eat 25 gallons of Soba.” Leonardo leaned back in his chair, using his knee to pry away from the table. With the gaze lifted, Leo put on a smile as he directed his information to no-one-in-particular.

Donnie looked up from his mug as he finished filling it to the top with milk, “I’m sorry,” exasperated, “25 gallons?”

“Of Soba,” Leo’s smile widened, “yeah.”

“That’s an awesome idea Raph!” Mikey cheered, “now how do you make Soba?” 

“Uh...:” Raph paused, “I was just gonna, y’know, buy it from somewhere.”

Mikey scoffed, borderline offended, “you were just gonna buy soup?”

“Yeah?” Raph mumbled, his voice starting to sound confused.

“No. No no.” Mikey continued with the tone of refusal in his voice escalating, “no no no no no.” He whipped out his phone in a dramatic fashion and started typing. “This is a Soba. Showdown. Challenge.” He pulled up an image and Leo had to lean out of his chair to see the LED picture. The image was a human lady sitting at a table surrounded by empty bowls in a restaurant, headlined “Woman eats 300 bowls in 17 minutes.” Mikey showed the image to Raph and then Donnie, who was showing little interest as he dove into his own phone. “We are gonna make our own Soba.”

“Mikey,” Donnie sighed, “you don’t know how to make Soba.”

Leo chimed in, “hey, he can probably figure it out.” There was a tinge of sarcasm in his voice, but it wasn’t full hearted. Mikey was, afterall, a better cook than any of them. Japanese cuisine wasn’t exactly his forté, but he was pretty killer with Italian.  “And he’s right,” Leo added.

“About what?” One of Donnie’s eyebrows rose with the question.

Leo pointed to Raphael, “Raph, is this really a soba eating challenge?”

“Uh,” Raph hesitated for a moment before he answered excitedly, “yeah! Yeah it is!”

“‘Hot Soup’ is our catchphrase,” Leo picked up his bowl and drank the milk from it, setting it down with a loud tap before he finished his sentence with a refreshed sigh, “as much as we talk about soup we should be able to make our own.”

“Yeah!” Mikey shouted, “what he said!” 

“Yeah! Except…” Raph deflated as he set the bowl down on the table between the four of them, Leo had to sit up straighter to see over the bowl, it was ridiculously large. “We don’t even know if we’re going to like Soba.”

“What are you talking about,” the familiar rasp caught Leo by surprise. “You boys love Sansai Soba.” Splinter walked into the kitchen with a hearty yawn as he passed his boys, skipping the breakfast table and walking directly to the fridge. It was unusually early for him to be up, his normal wake up time was closer to noon.

“Sorry pop’s,” Leo chuckled, “but we’ve never had Soba.”

“Yes you have.”

“What’s Sansai Soba?” Mikey inquired, walking over to lean on the counter.

“You’ve had it,” Dad pulls out a leftover Panda Express box, hopping onto the counter close to Mikey with a pair of chopsticks.

“Uh, no Dad,” Donnie looked up from his phone as he brought his mug close to his face, “we haven’t.”

Dad popped open the box, mixing up the contents with his utensils, “yes you have.”

“Yeah,” Donnie muttered under his mug as he took a sip, “pretty sure we’d all remember something like ‘Sansai Soba’.”

“Dad, when did we have it?” Raph questioned.

“Mm,” their Dad hummed thoughtfully, a smile creeping in as he searched through the brain fog to find the answer, “Red, you were about… five years old?”

“Oh, yeah,” a scoff erupted from Leo, “like we’re gonna remember that!”

“Eh,” Splinter remarked.

Mikey repeated himself, still curious, “Dad, what’s sansai soba?”

“Sansai Soba is a soup,” Splinter took a bite of cold noodles, talking with a full mouth. “It’s made with mountain vegetables, buckwheat noodles, and dashi stock.”

“We ate that?” Raph said in disbelief.

“Surprisingly,” Dad swallowed, “yes.”

Mikey crossed one of his legs as he leaned closer, “where’d you get it from?” 

“I made it.”

“You can’t cook.” Donnie said matter-of-factly.

“I can too,” Splinter retorted, rising out of his wake-up haze at Donnie’s comment, “I cook all the time!”

Mikey teasingly chuckled, “putting chips in a bowl doesn’t count, Dad.” All four brothers laughed at that while Dad only scowled with a facefull of noodles. Most of the time Dad didn’t use a bowl, he would just eat an entire bag by himself.

“You know nothing!” Dad spat, “I will show you!”

“You’ll make the Soba?” The wonder in Mikey’s voice was hopeful and full of excitement.

“No,” Dad sat the box on the counter and slid off, “we will be making it.”

Mikey gasped, “yay, family time!”

“Count me out.”

“Yeah i’m good.” Donnie and Leo spoke at the same time, but they weren’t heard over the excitement from Raph and Mikey. Raph had picked his massive bowl back up and both he and Mikey eagerly followed their father out of the room, leaving the pile of bowls forgotten on the kitchen floor.

Leo’s bowl was empty now, and he was out of tea. He leaned back in his seat and looked to Donnie, who quickly looked away from him and back to his phone as he sipped at his coffee… with milk.

“Not eager to put your chef skills to the test?” Leo teased, an awkwardness had resettled now that the two other brothers were gone.

Donnie looked back to Leo and was silent for a moment before smiling with his response, “no more than you.” 

Leo chuckled as he stood, taking his dishes with him to the sink. He loaded his things into the dishwasher (including his cup from the night before) and walked back to grab his blanket.

Leo could hear the taps of Donnie’ finger pads against his phone as he typed. Leo rolled his blanket into a messy ball as the weight in his tummy returned. “Are you okay?”

Donnie stopped typing and looked up, not really moving as his eyes lifted to Leo. There was a wary uncertainty as he answered. “Yeah?” He took a long sip as he stared thoughtfully, “why do you ask?”

Leo didn’t take too long to answer, the pauses were getting monotonous, “just asking.”

He left the kitchen but felt Donnie’s eyes on him as he walked. It was uncomfortable as he felt holes being bored into the back of his neck. When he entered his room Leo threw his blanket on the bed. He could still hear Raph and Mikey talking to their Dad in the living room, but the details of their conversation were obscured by distance and action movie noises. Leo sighed and stretched as he circled his room. The soreness in his neck and shoulders were finally fading into afterthoughts from the movements, he felt a lot better after eating something, but the rock in his stomach from the breakfast table hadn’t left. If anything, it was heavier now, and it grew larger and more uncomfortable the more he thought about the interaction he had with Donnie. There wasn’t anything in particular wrong but it just felt… unfamiliar? ‘Remember,’ the little voice repeated, ‘he must be really tired.’ It didn’t help it’s own case though, because it kept repeating images in his head. The way that Donnie’s face contorted when his tongue touched the black coffee was so unfamiliar, the flickering eye movements were not something that his twin did, the ‘why do you care?’ was too hostile.

With a huff he pushed it all aside, the lack of sleep was just making him paranoid and he knew it. Donnie is tired too, he repeated, Donnie is tired too. Leo stood for a moment, trying to occupy his mind with something else. What did he want to do today?

-

This was Leo’s sixth song, and he was on a roll. He didn’t have a perfect score, but he was high in the ranks of Dance Dance Revolution; and by high, he meant he was back in third place. The tired metal and aged plastic creaked under the furious motion of his feet and he began to break a sweat as his score continued to rise. He hadn’t selected the hardest song in the game, he was planning on working his score up and then he’d choose one of the harder songs for last to see if he could get past Mikey’s score. He wanted to beat Raph’s score, but that was a bit of a pipe dream considering how much Raphael loved this game.

They hadn’t had the dance machine for very long in comparison to some of the other arcade games they had collected. This machine in particular the four brothers had only possessed for about a year, and they hadn’t really found a lot of time to play it with all of the action that had been going on in their lives. Raph had the highest score since he enjoyed the game the most, and towered above them all with a whopping score of 4370, and Mikey was second  with a score of 1993. Leo and Donnie, on the other hand, were always switching between third and fourth place. Donnie had held the better dance score for the first month, but then Leo had swiped it during a competitive ‘Pluto the First’ challenge dance, after that, they had kept switching every time they played, neither of them really getting too much of an upper hand. Leo decided to play this when he found himself in fourth place with a score of 620, and Donnie in third with 659.

As the song approached its finale the number of coordinated moves increased, picking up the pace. Leo needed this, after the exhaustion from this morning and his paranoid awkwardness, the dancing was a fantastic distraction from it all. He just needed to get his mind off of it and get his body moving.With one final tap the song finished and Leo sighed in exertion. He took a step off of the pad and bent down to unscrew his water bottle-

“Wow, great score Leo!”

Leo nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden noise, nearly dropping his water in the process. Donnie was there and leaning against the rails of the dancing machine with a look of interest. He was wearing his favorite purple hoodie with the hood draping over his shoulders, this morning’s hostile look was gone. Leo shook off the chill in his spine and played it cool, “why thank you,” Leo bowed dramatically. His score was now 780. Leo took a sip of water before re-capping the bottle and setting it back down to the floor. “I am once again in third place,” he stretched and faced Donnie, a few inches taller than him now thanks to the dance pad, “take that,” he snapped his fingers into a finger gun to accompany the words.

Donatello hummed in response as he looked at the screen. His eyes flicked between the screen and Leo, and for a moment they fell on the water bottle on the floor. A playful grin spread on his face as his eyes narrowed. “I don’t think so,” Donnie leaped over the rail and landed on the alternate pad, “2-player challenge.”  He used the buttons below the screen to select the most difficult song in the game: Paranoia Survivor Max. It was short but it was a beater. “Winner takes third.”

Leo chuckled and scrolled down to the start button for him. “You’re on.” He slapped the start button and jumped into place. 

The screen displayed “HERE WE GO” and Leo only had a quick moment to look at the info tab on the bottom right side of the screen - BPM 290; challenge 16. His current score was displayed along with the info. On Donnie’s side of the screen the same information was displayed with his measly score of 659, and Leo was going to keep it that way.

It started quicker than Leo anticipated (as usual) and they were immediately thrown into the fray. Down up down right down up down left up down up down left. This was the most difficult song in Dance Dance Revolution history, and he wasn’t gonna lose to Donnie this time. Donnie usually lost to him, but it was always close, and he had been getting better every time due to his love of dance. Leo winced as he missed a step, but he wasn’t going to let it get to his head, he was going to get into Donnie’s head. A break in the song (literally half a second) was enough time for him to do a spin before landing on the next combination of arrows, he laughed when he hit successfully and added a bit more flare to his movements with some enthusiastic arm choreography.

“Yo, Bootyyyshaker9000.” Down up right up down up left.

“Yeah?” Donnie replied with a pant, Leo could already feel a sting in his ankles as he continued the ridiculously fast paced dance. 

He’d start with a low blow. “How does it feel to rank number 4 in the dance department?” Leo didn’t dare look at Donnie’s side of the screen, he was already missing a few points and he wasn’t going to lose anymore by looking at someone else's arrows.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” their steps were almost in sinc, “last I checked, I was the better dancer.” This morning's pestering weight was dissipating in the activity. This was Donnie! The dance, tech, and Atomic Lass loving dork that had some pretty sweet moves when he wanted to. Leo could hear the smile on his twins face as he was enjoying this too, it had been too long since they had competed like this, they should do it more often. It made him laugh.

“Ha!” Leo did a few key steps, “you call that dancing?” He was going to win this round “You rely too much on a machine, brother, this is dancing!”

Leo began exaggerating his movements, building up kicks and adding a few more spins as he pumped up the energy. Not everyone gets tired when playing DDR, but man, he was starting to feel it. It didn’t matter though, his score was high and he felt good. He did another spin and looked over his shoulder as he did the dance backwards. He heard Donnie emit a sound of frustration as Leo kept up with the movements. Leo laughed and switched back, it was a show-off move but nothing he could do for long.

They were getting close to the end, Leo could tell because he had watched Raph play this song a hundred times (that was an exaggeration, maybe six times, because this song was too crazy to do a hundred times.) He waited for the last move, where he spun again and dabbed at the last step.

Leo let off a sigh of exhaustion and put his hands on his knees as he panted. 442 points! Not marvelous, but perfect in the eyes of DDR. “Take that Don-” 120. Leo did a double take. Donnie’s score was only 120. Donnie was panting but he wasn’t nearly as tired as Leo. Bootyyyshaker9000, the guy who danced with Atomic Lass in times square, who was able to beat Mikey in DDR’s butterfly dance (but no other song and it was only that one time because it was Mikey), who always came close if he didn’t beat Leo in a double challenge, was sitting close to fail in the score system.

Donnie had his hands on his hips, faking exertion. “Wow, you sure beat me-”

“Donnie are you okay?” Leo cut him off. The rock dropped back into his guts as he stood up straight, coming to eye level with Donnie.

“What?” Donatello looked confused.

“If somethings wrong, you can tell me,” Leo continued as he took a step closer to Donnie, “are you feeling sick or something?”

“Uh... No, I'm fine,” he chuckled, albeit a bit uncomfortably, Donnie chuckled.

Leo continued. “Is it insomnia?” He took another step closer, now on Donnie’s side of the pad. He knew that sometimes Donnie experienced insomnia, the family wasn’t sure if it was chronic or just because of how much coffee purple always consumed, but when he did get insomnia, he got it bad. “You were up pretty late last night.”

Donnie scoffed with a wavering smile, “so where you!”

“Yeah, but you stayed up! It’s okay if somethings wrong, Donnie,”  Leo put a hand on his arms, “just tell me.”

Donnie shoved Leo’s hand off, his voice rising. “I’m fine!”

“I don’t think you are!”

“I’m fine, Leo!” Leo took a step back at the shout. Donnie wasn’t looking at him now, but he was glaring uncomfortably as his eyes darted around trying to find something to focus on. Donnie flipped his hood on and straightened with a sigh. That weight was growing uncomfortable in Leo’s stomach, so he picked up his water bottle and took a chug to try and drown the feeling. It didn’t help. 

“Can I have some of your water?” He didn’t know why, but the request put goosebumps on his skin. Donnie hated backwash, he was the guy who would just buy you a drink if you asked for some of his own, and Leo was already halfway through the cheap plastic bottle. Donnie held his hand out expectantly.

With a brief hesitation, Leo put the bottle in his hand wordlessly, stepping off the dance pad as his brother took a few swallows. He didn’t feel like dancing anymore, or maybe he just didn’t want to be in the same room as Purple.

“Thanks, here,” Donnie smiled awkwardly as he reached the water back towards Leo.

“You can have it.” Donnie’s smile dropped into a blank stare and it sent a chill down Leo’s shell, “i’m not thirsty right now.”

Leo left the room, but neither the chill, the goosebumps, or the weight left him as he could feel a stare tracing him as he walked.

#tmnt #leonardo #donatello #rottmnt #rottmnt fanfiction #fanfiction #donnie #leo #raph #mikey #splinter #writing #it started with the milk #chapter 2

[courage-a-word-of-justice]

Maou-jou 9 - 12 (FINAL) | Idolish7 s2 10 - 15 (FINAL) | SLS 2

I’ve been holding off new seasonals because of other things, but after I post this I’ll have enough time to get around to them. That’s why I can’t guarantee winter 2021 seasonal tags on this post...maybe the next one will have them...

Maou-jou 9

…it seems shopping channels even are the same in the demon world.

Now even the demons have quests! (The frame is different to the princess’s, though.)

Oh! The quest failed.

Neo Alraune: in flower language, “the 2nd coming of happiness”. The worry from a little while ago was, “I’m worried about my brother.” The worry from recently: “I didn’t think about being happy that the princess didn’t kill my brother.”

The penguin demons are pretty cute!

Don’t you know how parents forbid children from sleeping until they finish all their homework? Must be something like that.

Yoku ganbarimashita! – Syalis worked hard!

LOL, mental age: 3. Poseidon likes cute things…I can’t read a lot of this…the hardsubs cover the JPN text.

They…both succeeded! (…LOL?)

Maou-jou 10

Owarinocity = Endopolis. It’s a good equivalent, if I do say so myself.

…oh yeah. What happened to Alraune? Update: There she is!

Also, that blonde guy in the infomercials doesn’t look too bad…*makes chef’s kiss gesture with one hand* Nice.

I wonder, was Twilight once human…?

LOL, there’s a goat symbol on the cleric’s pyjamas. Also “first time”, LOL.

I think they were playing shiritori at one point.

Hanamaru saikou yoku dekimashita!

Maou-jou 11

…How does one “sleep cheerfully”, anyway?

I think I saw Twilight drop something…some kind of paper…

Aw, Twilight blushing is kinda cute!

LOL, 70s shoujo style. Also, “It cannot be!”

Whoa, she cancelled it?!

I read up on this series on TV Tropes…and apparently the Demon King captured the Princess in her sleep.

Kagemusha? Like a ninja or something?

Apparently the Demon Cleric is much older than he looks.

Ooh! Hypnos is back!

A-whatsit really is abysmal levels of stupid!!! (LOL)

Maou-jou 12 (FINAL)

Who’s that one tiny guy occupying one of the Ten Kings’ seats?

*watching after Christmas, about a week after the anime finished* This is not seasonally appropriate!

…*thinks for a second, then spits* That’s the 2nd Nemu in the fall 2020 season!!!

Ooh, the head paladin doesn’t look that bad, either.

“…is it good to be…”

“…has seized the princess!”

“…that demon king is rather cute.” – See? Someone agrees with me.

Anyways, that was a fun series. See you soon!

Idolish7 s2 10

…Back at it after so long…(I can’t help it though – Crunchyroll, per month, is about double the local Funimation sublicensor’s fees, and for much less content that’s worth my money to boot!)

I’ve always thought Momo was like Sasara (HypMic), so seeing him anguished hurts me in the kokoro too…

I know Banri was involved with Re:vale somehow…this must be it.

…Male idols are also popular among men? Is this why there are 8 (!!!) idol anime in winter 2021 alone…? (Also, that’s why HypMic became popular? Multidemographic appeal crossed over with obvious merchandising opportunities?)

It’s kind of scary how Momo stepped the formality towards Yuki like that (to -san).

I guess in his heart Momo still reveres Yuki, some way or another.

The rakugo curtain really sold the moment that they (current Re:vale) were acting like an old married couple.

Yay! Silver Sky is such a cool song! Of course I recognised the intro when it came on.

…I see. The elder Kujo is entrusting his dream to Tenn, so that’s why he banned Aya from seeing Tamaki. However, it’s hard to know what to feel when Aya speaks in the vaguest terms possible.

I think that was a special ending for only this episode. I don’t know what its name is, but I guess I might recognise it on Spotify one day.

Idolish7 s2 11

LOL, Nagi’s reaction.

Considering the ‘rona is getting worse outside our very windows as we speak (type?), I think it’s correct to be concerned about your future right now.

Looking at these narrow streets reminds me of going to eat hotpot at the end of my Japan trip…only Japanese streets look like that, I think. Hong Kong’s streets are more crowded than that and America likes their suburbia.

Of course, when you say hajimemashite (nice to meet you), someone’s gotta say it back, hence the reply.

Considering there are people all over the world watching the Idolish7 anime, I would say you are telling the world about I7, Riku.

Oh! Restart Pointer! There was an MV for that one…I think it was around the time Idolish7’s MVs started getting better.

So this is the context around the new outfits! Cool!

There have been way too many puns about “idol” being…y’know, “ai (love) doll” and stuff like that…

I have one Twitter person who I follow (DejiNyucu, part of the creative team for Autumn’s Journey) because I don’t get much I7 content and they keep mentioning this “Haruki” person…and suddenly a “Haruki the Betrayer” showed up in the graffiti…they might be the same person, I think. Not Deji, but Haruki. Update: Sakura Haruki, perhaps…?

Sougo’s such a bad liar…

Sometimes, the best way to deal with things is to be direct…(I’m not very good at that, I naturally talk in a very roundabout sort of way.)

Sougo with long hair like Yuki would be really pretty… (<- has an obvious thing for guys with long hair)

Idolish7 s2 12

Nagi’s stupid accent is generally what he’s best remembered for (for me), so seeing him speak normally, and do a press conference on top of that, is…impressive.

A kabedon on top of all this! Whoa!

Shibuya 109 parody…? (I’ve seen that once or twice – parodying that means people know their stuff about Shibuya.)

I think the “it’s overflowing!” is referring to the hype in the “room”.

…this dejected Momo is worrying…(well, he is worrying and I am worrying about him.)

Oh, I see. The person responsible typed the letter so that they couldn’t be traced back. Kind of like those old movies where the culprit would cut letters out of newspapers to make threat mail, but…with even less traces than that, because cutting letters out leaves evidence.

…wow, it took a while for this ep. to have an intro…

…LOL, I just spotted Kenjiro Tsuda cited as the “fake Zero”, meaning the real one might never show up this season.

There’s something really stupid and infectious about these managers’ enthusiasm for drinking energy drinks. It puts a goofy smile on my face.

Is Musubi Tsumugi’s mother…? Update: Yes, she is.

…Wait, so the Chiba Shizuo guy is actually important?!

Idolish7 s2 13

Whenever someone says “by the way”, it means they’re changing the subject. I hate to state to obvious, but Sougo is clearly deflecting the topic of conversation from being about him.

I wonder if this guy (Haw9) is the actual Zero graffiti vandal…?

Hmph, I didn’t realise Tenn doesn’t refer to Kujo-san as his father, but…like that (“Kujo-san”) instead.

Oh hey! These are shots from Vibrato!

Most dramas can be solved with the power of Good Communication. That includes this one.

I feel like “he has a dark side” describes both Tenn and Kujo-san.

“Everyone, remember to wash your hands and gargle thoroughly.” – This is always a good thing to remember in the time of ‘rona. Reminds me of Jakurai’s line in ARB (<- this game started just after the ‘rona came down).

What did Sougo go to uni for (what specialisation)?

Idolish7 s2 14

I just realised Banri calls Momo -kun. Hmm…

Denki = electricity, LOL.

I feel like Tenn is basically Ramuda, give or take actual pink hair…guys in musical groups with pre-existing angst that they become the “centre” of. The fact Fling Posse have Saito Soma and so do Trigger strengthens the connection.

I would watch the heck out of a musical like that! Make it come true, Idolish7! (Also, today is I7 day! I’m not much of an I7 fan outside the anime, but…that’s cool!)

That shot of them jumping! I remember seeing it on the official site before!

Idolish7 s2 15 (FINAL)

There you go! I was wondering where Banri’s injury was – that was the only bit that didn’t add up for him to be Yuki’s old partner.

Hmm…Momo is 4 years younger than Yuki but 2 years younger than Banri…

This episode has a real concert vibe to it, to the point where I got startled by how loud the yell was at one point. (Even if it is mostly stills.)

LOL, lookit Okazaki!

Apparently, if you’re a hako oshi, you like all the members of a group. Someone with a green light and a pink light likes both members of Re:vale.

LOL, Usagi for Asahi beer.

…I forgot Nagi is 19.

…Ooh, I think that’s the kid from ZOOL. No wonder they needed a season 3!

That’s all. See you next time!

SLS 2

“fine and upstanding person” – That’s…hard to believe, Hayato.

I wonder how many bois Toboso designed for SLS…?

…The episode title is actually “Blank”. Not “Break”.

One of the guys’ shirts says moteki on it. That’s a period in one’s life where one enjoys more romantic attention than usual, literally “popularity season”.

The subs missed an I, so initially I knew Kiriyama’s name as “Kiryama”.

There are meant to be 2 wings, right…?

“He who controls information controls everything, right?” – For once, I’m surprised Hayato is right (and not just in that smug way of his).

“…I’m being treated like a manager.” – But Hayato is a manager! (In a sense.)

The plait guy jumps to nicknames really fast…also, why do I get the feeling Maeshima will lose the key?

I hate to say this Maeshima, but I side with your childhood friend (Kiriyama) here. As much as the anime wants me to back you, I’m watching for everyone else at this point.

That blocky building looks pretty cool. I think Zel (Archi-Anime) would like it.

Sasugai’s setup looks pretty cool, including his chair.

…hmm, Maeshima’s like me in a sense. I learn best by copying others, but memory is my best asset. If I don’t regularly train the fundamentals, I suck at everything. That said, I don’t have an eidetic memory. Also, I didn’t quite figure out Ken = Ken(sei Maeshima) until I watched long enough to connect the dots.

LOL, Derry’s. (<- reminded of a word for “butt” <- derriere)

Well, the guy’s (Souta…?) shirt does say moteki…

Kiriyama kinda looks like Jyuto (HypMic), come to think of it…Right down to his angry streak (although Jyuto has a reputation to keep as a “cool dude”, while Kiriyama is more of a Manza (Boueibu HK) and he’s more angry than he looks).

…This ED is nothing special.

…Hmm? Is that a small Terauchi and Maeshima…?

I think I’m sold for now, but I’m rooting for the other team, not Maeshima’s…not yet, anyways.

#simulcast commentary #skate-leading☆stars #idolish7 #Idolish7 Second Beat! #Maou-jou de Oyasumi #sleepy princess in the demon castle #Chesarka watches I7 #Chesarka watches Maou-jou

[dvp95]

quiet on widow’s peak (9)

pairing: dan howell/phil lester, pj liguori/sophie newton/chris kendall rating: teen & up tags: paranormal investigator, mystery, online friendship, slow burn, strangers to lovers, nonbinary character, trans character, background poly, phil does some buzzfeed unsolved shit and dan is a fan word count: 3.1k (this chapter), 29.6k (total) summary: Phil’s got a list of paranormal experiences a mile long that he likes to share with the world. Abandoned buildings, cemeteries, and ghost stories have always called his name, and a particular fan of his has a really, really good ghost story.

read this chapter on ao3 or here!

The sleep Phil has is restless and patchy. He wakes up so many times, spikes of panic cutting through the calm as he tries to remember where he is and who's breathing next to him. Dan is either a very heavy sleeper or very good at pretending to sleep, because Phil jerking awake never makes them stir.

It's a comfort, to look at Dan and see their blurry face slack with a peacefulness that wasn't there all night, but Phil doesn't do it for too long. Watching someone sleep is the pinnacle of creepiness. He just looks for a couple of seconds until his heart rate slows back down and he can roll onto his side. He faces away from Dan so he isn't tempted to keep looking at them, staring at the boring wall instead and waiting for sleep to momentarily take him again.

He's still tired when he wakes up properly to Dan tossing and turning, but he decides that's his cue to be awake.

"Hey," he murmurs, reaching for Dan's hand. He squints, but he can't tell if Dan is having a nightmare or if they're awake without getting even closer to their face. "It's okay. You're okay."

Dan takes a deep, shuddering sort of breath and cradles Phil's hand in both of their own. It's like they're afraid he's going to let go. "Sorry, fuck."

"You've got nothing to be sorry for," says Phil. His stomach is doing a weird twisty thing at the sound of Dan's voice all husky with sleep. As long as he acts normal, it's fine, right? It's hard to convince himself of that when Dan's hands are pressed to his own and making him feel impossibly small. "How did you sleep?"

"I mostly slept fine," Dan says, and Phil nods like he didn't already know that.

"Good. You needed it."

For a moment, Dan is quiet. Then, they shuffle onto their side so they can properly face Phil, who has to fight the urge to hide away from their gaze. It's a good thing that he can't see the depth and warmth and sparkle of Dan's eyes without his glasses on.

"You didn't sleep very well," they say like it's a fact. Phil doesn't bother trying to deny it, he just shrugs. "You could have woken me up."

"Why would I do that?" Phil asks, puzzled by the offer.

Dan smiles, and Phil reaches for his glasses. He feels so vulnerable without them, and the sensation of not being able to see the way Dan is smiling while Dan can probably read every tiny emotion on his face is anxiety-inducing.

He leaves his other hand in Dan's. Maybe it would be easier if he just let go, but he finds that he doesn't want to.

The world comes into focus, and Phil blinks over at Dan like it's his first time seeing them. They look so different with their lashes clumped together and lines creased into their soft cheeks by the pillow. Curls are in complete disarray, and Phil presses his fingers into his palm so he doesn't try to brush the frizzy, unruly mess off Dan's forehead. Their smile doesn't fade when Phil just kind of stares - if anything, it gets even wider.

"You stayed with me all night," says Dan. Their tone is dry, but Phil imagines there's not a small amount of sincerity behind it. "You didn't have to, like, be alone."

Alone isn't something Phil had felt at all. Dan's steady breathing and the warmth of them emanating from their core even when they weren't touching were the only things keeping Phil grounded every time he woke with a start. He doesn't know how to say that to this person he barely knows, though, wouldn't know how to say something so open to most of the people in his life, so he just chuckles.

"No use in neither of us getting any sleep," he points out.

Dan is very warm, and Phil can feel his palm starting to get sweaty where it's trapped between both of theirs. He makes an apologetic face and pulls his hand back, patting it on his flannel pyjamas. Dan doesn't seem bothered by the lack of contact, but they also don't seem relieved - Phil can't tell what they're thinking at all, if he's honest.

"So," says Dan. "Where do we go from here?"

Before Phil can even think about it, he echoes the question in falsetto. It's louder and more obnoxious than he intends it to be. He swings his legs out of bed and reaches for his phone on the nightstand to try and hide a blush. "Uh, we go eat breakfast. Lunch, I guess."

"You lied," Dan says to his back. "You are always thinking about Buffy."

"Not always," Phil says weakly.

"Often enough."

"Once More With Feeling bypasses my brain entirely. It's just a primal call and response to anyone as obsessed with the show as teenage me was."

"I've never seen the show the whole way through," says Dan. "But Buffy is a style icon of mine."

Phil's tired brain offers him a half dozen mental images of Dan in various Buffy outfits before he shakes his head to try and clear it. He's never been particularly interested in boys wearing girls' clothes, but the concepts of gender identity and presentation are so blurry when it comes to Dan that he's going to have to rethink that position. They're not 'girls' clothes' on Dan. Maybe there's no such thing as 'girls' clothes' at all.

It's too early in the day for a deep dive on his own perceptions of gender, though. He thinks that sort of existentialism can wait until after his second or third coffee.

--

Phil's parents eat lunch with them and do their best to make small talk, but only Chris is On enough to properly converse with them. At Phil's umpteenth 'huh' of the early afternoon, they give up entirely and migrate to the lounge to watch tv.

For a long few seconds, the kitchen table is quiet. Then, Dan stands and starts to clear everyone's plates.

"You don't have to do that," Phil says, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"I need to do something with my hands or I'll lose the plot," says Dan. They dump the dishes carefully in the sink and start running water. Having their back to the group seems to give them the courage to add, "I don't have all my meds with me. I didn't exactly expect to be out all night."

"What d'you take?" Chris asks.

"Little fucking nosy of you," says PJ.

"Well, one of us might have what he needs, love. I'm not just asking for the hell of it."

Phil feels a bit like his mum has possessed him when he clicks his tongue disapprovingly. "You really shouldn't share medication," he says when Chris gives him a look.

It makes Dan laugh, anyway, so Phil feels like he's done something right. They still don't turn around, just washing everybody's dishes and looking so weirdly at home in Phil's clothes, Phil's old kitchen. Phil doesn't realise he's staring at their back until someone kicks him under the table.

"Earth to Phil," Chris murmurs. He's resting his chin on a hand and smirking, but his eyes are too sharp for how little sleep he must have gotten. Phil feels heat rise to his cheeks and pulls his coffee closer to use the steam as an excuse.

"I don't need anything, really," Dan hums. "Thanks for asking. My brain just struggles a bit."

"A big mood, as the kids say," Chris says sagely.

Dan laughs again. It isn't as loud as Phil knows it can get, but it still fills the room and makes everything seem a bit brighter. "Do the kids say that?" they ask. "Is that what they say?"

"I believe it is," says Chris.

There is another stretch of silence. Phil watches his friends' faces as the elephant in the room weighs on them all. He's making a bet in his own mind about who will be the first to break when Dan turns around and bluntly says, "I still don't think that was a ghost, but I really fucking hated it."

"Sorry," says PJ, "but what else could it have possibly been?"

"I dunno," says Dan. They cross their arms over their waist, holding onto their own elbows. Phil is beginning to recognise the position as a protective one for them. "But I'm sure there's an explanation. Sleep paralysis is normal."

"The way it happened was not normal."

"What do you think it was, Dan?" Sophie asks. Her tone is much kinder than PJ's, but she seems just as skeptical.

Dan's dimple is pulling downwards in unhappiness or discomfort, so Phil waves a hand to get everyone's attention on himself instead.

"Why don't you guys tell us what exactly happened to you," he suggests, meeting Dan's eyes almost apologetically. He knows that none of them want to relive it, but it's easier if they're all on the same page here. "And we can toss around theories later."

--

PJ says, "It was a demon. I could see it. It was tall and humanoid-ish and had a Cheshire Cat smile and it kept going closer to Chris and Soph just to watch me panic. Then it would laugh and sharpen its claws on the wall. It felt like hatred and fear in a physical being. I really don't think our protection sigils did fuck all, but it didn't actually touch any of us, so maybe they helped a bit?"

Dan says, "It was nothing of the sort. I saw the same shit you did, Peej, but that doesn't mean anything. Haven't you ever heard of mass hysteria? Folie à deux - not the album - isn't unheard of. Maybe there's a high level of carbon monoxide. Maybe the asbestos got to us. I don't fucking know, but there's a hundred explanations before you hit demon. But, yeah. It looked like what PJ says. It felt like I was frozen for a fucking week, not just a few hours, it was awful. Zero out of ten, would not do again."

Sophie says, "It smiled at me and I felt cold."

--

They pile into the basement to recuperate so they aren't bothering Phil's parents. Or, more accurately, so Phil's parents aren't bothering them. Most of the games are packed up, but Phil finds the Wii and its small collection of disks in a box under the stairs. He sets it up, hands his friends the controllers, and sits back to zone out while they tear each other apart at Mario Kart.

Phil doesn't consider himself a skeptic. He knows that his threshold of belief is a lot lower than he makes it appear to be in his videos, but he'd never call himself a Scully. He always thinks about the supernatural aspects of any case he's looking into, even if he doesn't commit a hundred percent to the mentality that it must be something weird. He usually just prefers the weird option to the more common and boring reality of things.

So this thing with the Wilkins place is downright terrifying. Not only is it in Phil's proverbial backyard, too close for comfort in a lot of ways, but he hasn't had an experience quite so chilling since he was sixteen and dipping his toe into this hobby at Martyn's side.

He and Martyn still aren't sure what exactly left those finger-shaped bruises on Phil's ankles, but it's become a funny story in the years since.

Maybe this will be something to laugh at in a few years, too. Phil hopes so.

"You sure you don't want to play?" Dan asks, breaking into Phil's reverie. They're in first place and not even looking at the screen, their concerned brown eyes focused on Phil. Phil gives them a small smile and shakes his head.

"No, I'm alright."

"Phil, please take the controller from him," says Chris. He seems annoyed, but Phil can never tell how much of that is a show. It's possible that Chris isn't actually competitive at all and just likes to work Phil and PJ up by acting like he, too, would rather eat a whole head of lettuce than lose. It's also possible that Chris genuinely feels that way. "He's not even fucking trying and he's kicking our asses."

"Maybe you deserve to have your ass kicked a bit," Phil says, watching the screen to see how easily Dan ducks around various obstacles.

It still jolts a bit, hearing the people around him make an assumption - however logical it is - about how Dan wants to be addressed. Phil knows it isn't his place to correct them, especially since it seems like they're not using any less correct terms than he is, but it still rankles a bit.

"Fuck's sake!" PJ exclaims, looking like he's a hair away from throwing the Wiimote at something. He's never actually hit that level of gamer rage, but getting lapped by someone who keeps checking their phone during a race seems to be getting on his nerves. Phil reaches out and pats at PJ's mess of curls.

"You'll be okay," he says, dry. "They're just better than you, you'll live."

Maybe the pronoun use is a little more pointed than it needs to be, but Dan gives him such an exasperatedly fond grin that Phil can't bring himself to regret it. There is a brief beat of quiet, and then PJ groans again.

"It's not fair," says PJ, gesturing dramatically with the Wiimote. Sophie leans out of the line of fire. "This is unacceptable. We have to play a game they're bad at, now."

"I don't care what you call me," says Dan. They sound more amused than anything else. "As long as you know I'm winning anything we play."

"That's why they call him Winnie," Chris says in that very mild voice he uses for absolute nonsense. He puts his own controller aside and flops onto his back on the basement floor, stretching. "I can't do it, I can't play another round of this farce. I'm going upstairs to let my future mum-in-law dote on me."

Phil sighs. He can feel Dan's eyes on him again, and he shrugs helplessly in their general direction. He does not control the Chris. "Please stop saying things like that. Dan is going to think I'm mixed up in… this."

He gestures vaguely at the three of them, and Chris' eyes sharpen like he's spotted prey.

"Oh, so you want Dan to know you're horrendously single, then?" Chris gives Dan a wide, conspiratorial sort of grin. "He's useless at this, you know."

"Me rejecting you doesn't make me useless," Phil huffs. He can feel a flush creeping up his neck, because Chris is more right than he wants to admit, and Dan is smiling back at Chris like they're in on the joke.

"I think it demonstrates a lack of taste," Chris sniffs.

"You know what I think?" Sophie asks, stretching her arms above her head. "I think I need a shower."

"Me too," Dan says with an unnecessary little sigh. Phil pinches his own thigh to circumvent the mental images before they start. It's annoying to have such a good imagination, sometimes. "And I need to take my meds. Is there a bus that runs around here or something?"

"Don't worry about taking the bus," says PJ. "I'll drive you."

"I don't mind," says Dan.

"I mind," says PJ, more firmly. He stands like he's planning on dragging Dan to the car himself if Dan tries to say no again.

Dan's shoulders relax forward. Phil knows the anxiety of riding unfamiliar public transit all too well, and he definitely wouldn't make Dan do something so harrowing after they got roped into ghosthunting. He's glad that PJ is on the same page again, keeping Dan in that sense of protection that being a team gives them.

It's only been a weekend, but Phil is already reluctant to let Dan go home and leave the team bubble. He wants to insist on coming along, but he knows PJ probably wants solitude on the drive back.

Still. Phil chews his lip and looks down at his phone so he doesn't have to see the looks on his friends' faces when he says, "You can keep the pyjamas. If you want them."

"Okay," Dan says softly. "I will, thanks."

He knows that he should look up, should smile at Dan or stand and hug them before they leave his life, but that all feels so big at this moment. Phil's anxiety lets him wave and murmur a goodbye before he's left alone in the basement. At least, he thinks he's alone, until he sighs heavily and Chris responds from the floor. "Oh, you're fucking mooning over him, aren't you? This is awful. I preferred the ghost."

--

Phil takes a shower after his friends have, to be polite, and it feels incredible to wash off the dirt and dust from the attic. It feels less incredible when the door opens.

He hadn't bothered locking it, because his parents' shower is loud and it should be obvious that he's in there. At least the curtain isn't see-through. He takes a moment to just stand under the spray, bewildered, before it occurs to him that he can ask what's going on. It probably isn't a serial killer. "Er, hello?"

"Hi," Chris' voice comes, tense. "We've got a problem."

"I'm a little busy," Phil says pointedly.

"Well, get your hand off your knob and get out here," says Chris. "We need to figure this out before Peej gets back."

Phil rolls his eyes, but doesn't bother arguing about why exactly he's busy. He rinses the last of his mum's conditioner out of his hair and squints at the unfocused, opaque shower curtain like he'll be able to see Chris if he just tries hard enough. "Figure what out, mate?"

"All of the footage is fucked," Chris says, blunt. "It's corrupted to high hell. Every single second. There's no evidence we were even there at all."

#quiet on widow's peak #words words words

[mystic-kitten-writer]

Limerence [M] ︳09

Pairing: Zuko x OC

Genre: Romance, mainly fluff with future smut, and if you squint hard enough - you’ll find some angst.

Rating: SFW

Words: 5000+

Notes: I hope everyone is enjoying the chapters, and don’t be afriad to leave a like~! Thanks for the support and love guys, it’s awesome <3

Masterlist ︳08 ︳ 10

❤ Buy me a coffee? ❤

Limerence: (English/n.) the state of being infatuated with another person.

The moment their eyes locked they knew - the flames within him twisted while the water within her turned. It was a connection, a connection that would lead to love, adventure, and drama.

Basorexia

(English/n.) The overwhelming desire to kiss.

~ Ying Yue Jiang ~

            Warmth.

            It radiated throughout my body as I smushed my face into the pillow and hummed delightfully. I’ve never slept so nicely before, and out of pure delight, I found myself wrapping myself tighter and tighter into the blankets, in complete and utter bliss. That was until I got a large sniff of the sheets. It smelled different from my usual vanilla scent. It was rich and in some ways smelt like firewood. Although it was different, that wasn’t to say I didn’t like it at all, rather than the opposite. It was intoxicating. Yet, it triggered something else in my mind. My eyes snapped open, and I took in my surrounding. Oh my.

            The blankets were different.

            The walls were different.

            Everything was different.

            I was frozen in place, curled up into a tiny ball on my side as I gazed at the windows. It’s morning, so I didn’t sleep in. But I huffed, I knew what I had to do, and at this point, I was stalling. The room was not unfamiliar to me; in fact, I knew it all too well. With a deep breath, I swiftly turned on my back, ready to come face to face with the one and only, sleeping Zuko. Yet, to my surprise, there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. Empty. Zero.

            My eyebrows pinched together as I looked at the empty spot beside me. The blankets were nice and tidy, not a single wrinkle or crease found. Instead of finding answers, I was left more confused. Here I was, apparently in Zuko’s bed, but Zuko was nowhere to be seen. I sat up straight and looked around the room. Memories flooding back when my eyes fell upon the back of the couch. We were sitting, talking, and then I started feeling sleepy…Did I fall asleep? I started getting rosy. Smooth Yue, really fucking smooth.

            A soft groan caught my attention, and I looked closer at the couch. Is the blanket on the sofa moving? My eyes widen, there’s no way… I shifted in Zuko’s bed and stood up, curious. Slowly I walked over to the couch, trying my hardest not to make a sound. But my curiosity ended when I finally managed to stand in front of the sofa. If only I could capture this moment forever.

            Zuko sluggishly laid along the sofa, his eyes closed and lips slightly parted. He was sleeping, still in dreamland. The couch was visibly too small for his large frame, yet Zuko managed to squeeze himself on top of it, curled into a ball as the blankets twisted themselves with his legs. It was the first time I ever saw him so vulnerable, different from his poised demeanour. I wonder how many people have seen like this, so exposed. Suddenly the need to make sure he was tucked in and warm engulfed me, what have you done to me? Zuko hugged the sheets close to his broad chest, his uniform breathing the only sound heard in the room. He looked tranquil.

            It took me a few minutes to take in that I was already crouched down, leaning over his sleeping figure, and a hand delicately tracing the curvature of his face. It was also the first time I got a good look at his scar. Surprisingly enough, I never did take note of his burn. It was not the first thing I noticed; instead, it was the twinkle in his golden eyes and that handsome smile. It must have hurt so much; I thought as I gazed upon the burn. The scar had unquestionably healed and seemed a tad bit smaller than how the others described it to me. Yet, something told me that it was this burn that defined him, made him who he was…

            “I wouldn’t mind waking up every morning to this.” Zuko hummed softly as his hand quickly engulfed mine. My eyes widen, and I instinctively tried to pull my hand away from his face, I totally got caught. Zuko’s eyes opened, and he flashed me a playful grin, as he held my hand tightly against his face, “Oh, please continue, you seemed to be enjoying yourself.” I coloured and poked his cheek, “What are you doing on the couch? Did I fall asleep?” I asked. Zuko chuckled and slowly started stretching, before sitting himself up.

            For someone who seemed to have slept on the couch, he didn’t look like it; he could make a potato sack look sexy. I probably look like poop. “You didn’t just fall asleep; you knocked out cold. I thought you died for a minute.” Zuko mused. I groaned and covered my face, “I'm so sorry. You should have just brought me back to my bedroom.” I grumbled in my hands. Zuko laughed and patted my head, “I tried, but you insisted on staying here. Something along the lines of ‘you're so warm’ and ‘I feel safe,’” Zuko said in a high pitch tone that mimicked mine. Someone kill. Me. Now.

            “How can I say no, especially when you say those things, my love?” My eyes widen.

            “My love?” I repeated, flabbergasted. Zuko chuckled.

             “Don’t you remember? We agreed that Princess would be confusing in the Fire Nation.”

            “What else happened?” I said panicked.

            Zuko snickered and stood up, stretching his legs. “Nothing really, I tucked you into bed, and I slept on the couch.” I let out a sigh of relief and eagerly stood up. So I guess I didn’t humiliate myself that much. “Although next time you decide to pass out like that, I'm not going to be Mr. Nice Guy and sleep on the couch. My neck kills.”

            “I'm sorry.” I pouted and crossed my arms bashfully. I can’t believe I made Fire Lord Zuko sleep on the couch. Zuko rolled his eyes and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “Don’t worry about it love. Are we still going to market this morning?” Zuko asked, as his head rested upon mine. I nodded, and gently pulled away to meet his eyes. “I’ll walk you to your room so you can get changed. It's the least I could do after you spent the night.” Zuko said with a wink. I slapped his arm and started walking to the door, “Good morning to you too!” Zuko sarcastically shouted from behind me. I giggled and opened the door, “Good morning!” I shouted back.

            “Good morning uh, Yue?”

            My eyes widen, and my head snapped towards the hallway. Sokka and Suki just woke up as well, their hair was all messy, and they still wore their pyjamas. Sokka seemed flustered while Suki was grinning madly, “Had fun last night?” I flushed, knowing exactly what going through that dirty mind of hers. “It-it's not what you think.” I quickly spat out. Sokka leaned against the wall with eyebrows raised, “Humor me.” Sokka challenged.

            An arm wrapped around my waist and I could feel Zuko come from behind me, his warm breath tickling the back of my neck, “So you're sleeping in Zuko’s room now?” Suki questioned, loving every moment of this, a bit too much. Zuko eyed them and grinned, “Did Ying Yue say that?” Zuko asked. I looked up at him rattled. “I was just wondering since it seems she stayed the night.”

            “Ah, she couldn’t control herself last night.” Zuko edged on, and I knew what he was doing. He was actually going to use this against me in every way possible. Suki laughed and elbowed Sokka, “Who would have thought.” She pointed her chin at me. I flushed, “That’s not true!” I squeaked out.

            “Don’t be shy; she didn’t even make it to the bed.” Zuko mused. This time I didn’t hold back. I slapped Zuko’s arm hard, and he yelped, letting go of me as he rubbed his arm in pain. They may have sharp tongues, but I can punch just as hard. “And I thought it was going to be him being rough,” Suki muttered under her breath, but still loud enough for me to pick it up. Today is the day; today is the day I murder everyone.

            “Fire Lord Zuko-”

            Everyone turned their heads to see Zuko’s maid, Lia, running down the hallway. It was clear she had just woken up as well, still wearing her pyjamas. She swiftly stopped in front of us but made sure she gave a low bow to Zuko first. Zuko nodded his head in acknowledgment before she looked at me, “Imperial Consort Ying Yue.” She said as well, giving me a large bow. I was flustered; I guess I have to get accustomed to this. I smiled and bowed back. Lia looked back at Zuko, but she seemed stressed.

            “Speak,” Zuko said quickly, straight to the point. It was a huge shift in appearance, strange seeing him speak roughly. “Earth Nation documents have been received and require urgent attention.”

            “Earth Nation?” Zuko asked, seemingly surprised. Lia nodded, “We made it clear that you were off duties for the time being, but it was urgent enough for them to expedite the documents here. It was sent from the King himself, Kuei, the 52nd Earth King.” Zuko frowned. It evident he was in deep thought, as his eyebrows pinched together and he crossed his arms. It was clear this caught him off guard, but Zuko huffed and soon all signs of disbelief left. He swiftly turned to Sokka and Suki and politely bowed, “Sorry I must go, this is urgent.”

            I pouted, watching how edgy Zuko seemed. What was going on? Unknowingly, I bit my lip and started fidgeting with my fingers. Zuko turned to face me and gave me a weak smile, a smile that failed to reach his eyes. “Would you be okay going to the market yourself? I don’t know how long I'll take…” Zuko asked me hesitantly. I smiled softly and nodded, “Don’t worry, I can buy the things you wanted for Kiyi.” Zuko let out a breath of relief. He mouthed a quick thank you before he hurried back to his bedroom to change. Lia looked at me and gave me an apologetic look.

            Sokka and Suki waved goodbye before stating that they were going to grab something to eat for breakfast. It was clear they felt terrible that my plans were temporarily cancelled and asked if I would join. I politely declined and went to my bedroom to change for the day. I wasn’t mad at all that Zuko had left, but rather curious, what could have been that important that the Earth King wrote himself? I huffed as I changed into a plain white kimono. Was it something bad? Good? Maybe about the new Nation they were building?

            I stopped in front of the mirror and looked at myself. I was out of the loop in terms of politics that Zuko was in charge of. I was aware of the politics here in the Southern Water Tribe and Northern, but I was ignorant when it came to the Earth and Fire. If I wanted to be Zuko’s companion I had to step up. As much as I loved the romance and playful banter, I knew it wasn’t going to last forever. The moment I arrive at the Fire Nation things would be different. I was a symbol of the Fire Nation now, and I had to make sure I maintained such reputation for the sake of Zuko.

            The bags were heavy, stupidly heavy. I was tempted to walk back to the house and drop them off, but I had one more thing to buy. Zuko had sent two guards to accompany me on my day trip, ‘he didn’t want you to be alone’ the guard told me. I huffed and walked from booth to booth, looking for the last thing on my mental shopping list. Both guards were friendly but quiet. Unless I spoke up and started some form of small talk, they didn’t utter a word and just trailed along behind me.

            Out of the corner of my eye, I could see one of the guards eye me once again, more specifically the bags I carried. I pouted and gave him a look back before he could speak, “It’s fine; I can hold them.” The guard sighed, exhausted from my stubbornness, although I knew Zuko most likely would take the trophy for hard-headedness. “Fire Lord Zuko would not be pleased seeing you carry such heavy bags.” The guard spoke sensibly. I rolled my eyes and waved away his apprehensions, “Look, the shop is right there, and then we can go.” I chirped. The guard sighed once again, although I swear I saw him smile from underneath his helmet, ha! I got some emotion out of him.

            The man who tended the shop looked surprised to see me and slightly hesitated when viewing the two Fire Nation guards following suit. Regardless, I tried to make the atmosphere less tense with my famous smile, “Good Afternoon.” I started. The man nodded, “Good Afternoon Ying Yue.” He quickly gave me a small bow. That’s right…news of my new title wasn’t set to be released until today’s town hall meeting, although, I would be lying if I said that I was unhappy that he didn’t refer to me by a new title. Imperial Consort, it was okay to say once, but I was already getting annoyed at how long it was, it’s so redundant. Maybe I can shorten it? Like to consort…or imperial? I scoffed at myself, that just sounds stupid.

            The shop owner coughed, trying to catch my attention once again, “What can I help you with?” I smiled pleasantly remembering why I was even here, at a theatre shop. All around were stunningly adorned masks and costumes that were hand-made and ranged in colours, although blues and whites seemed to be the most popular. But my eyes landed on the display of masks that lined the back wall. Zuko said how his mother and his step-father adored theatre, so much so that he made them ambassadors of drama and theatre for the Fire Nation. “You wouldn’t happen to have some vintage masks, would you? Maybe something relating to Southern Tribe lore?” I asked. The man nodded and quickly began pulling out masks, ranging in shapes and sizes.

            It didn’t take long for me to choose what I wanted as my eyes instantly got attracted to two beautiful masks, couples masks. It was a representation of Ying and Yang; both masks had intricate detailing and contrasting colours. It was clear how much work had gone into these pieces of art, and I didn’t dare touch them, knowing me it would freeze the moment my fingertips grazed the material. This would work; a matching set for a couple…

            “I’ll take it,” I said brightly. The man nodded and quickly began wrapping the masks into well-crafted boxes. I mentally groaned, the thought of carrying yet another bag did not seem fun at all at this point. I hit the point where I was all shopped out, which said a lot because I love a good shopping spree. I paid the man and with much annoyance, grabbed the last bag. With a final goodbye, we departed the store, standing outside in the snowy weather.

            “Happy? Now you can take me to Fire Lord Zuko.” I said with a cheery smile to the guards as I tauntingly waved the last bag. After all, Zuko insisted that after I finished shopping, I meet him at the ship, in hopes that by then he would be finished his work and we could have a late lunch. The chatter one of the guards visibly chuckled, and I could hear him mutter something under his breath before speaking, “Follow me please.” I nodded, and happily trailed along.

            I was nervous to go back onto the ship, but another part of me was eager, I can finally put down these bags… It was only a matter of time that we were once again at the dock, and walking inside of the ship. The whole time guards and maids were bowing deeply and referring to me by my full title. I smiled back at them, although I did feel a tad bit weird. It was crazy how different Water and Fire Nation customs were. Sure, I was figurehead over here, but it seems like being a figurehead in the Fire Nation meant receiving the royal treatment.

            I could visibly see the heavy metal doors, and I knew where we were. We are in Zuko’s study. The guard stopped abruptly and looked at me before speaking, “With all due respect Ying Yue, can you please allow me to take your bags and place them in Fire Lord Zuko’s quarters? He will truly have my head if he saw you carrying everything yourself.” I could see the guard’s pleading eyes and I couldn’t help but pout in defeat. “Fine, since you asked nicely,” I said. I don’t want the man to lose his job.

            The guard’s shoulders visibly dropped, and he let out a sigh of relief before he began grabbing the bags from me, “Thank you, I really do appreciate you two staying with me during my outing.” I spoke elegantly. The guards nodded before moving towards the door, “You can enter, Fire Lord Zuko is aware that you're here.” I nodded, and with a push, the door opened.

            It was strange being in the room once again, since the last time I was here it resulted in tears and me being Zuko’s unofficial, official, girlfriend. Paperwork was still scattered throughout as candlelight illuminated the room. But more importantly, Zuko sat hunched over his study. It didn’t take an expert to tell that Zuko was upset. He had a hand pressed against his head as he huffed out angrily, I swore I saw some flicks of fire come out of his breath.

            “Zuko…?” I said softly. Zuko’s eyes widen, and he quickly sat back, taken off guard. He seemed relieved to see me, but I could see his shoulder’s tense once again. Something was wrong; it was clear as day. I frowned and crossed my arms as I watched Zuko walk towards me, “How was the market?” Zuko asked, trying his hardest to sound sincere. I wasn’t stupid, it was small talk, talking to not address the real flying bison in the room. “No, there’s something wrong,” I said quickly.

            Zuko looked taken aback that I was able to notice, I was good at reading people, a skill that proved helpful in times like these. Zuko hesitantly scratched his neck, a nervous habit of his I learned. He let out a deep breath before standing straight, looking at me dead in the eyes, “You’re right; there is something wrong.”

            “Does it have something to do with that letter from the Earth King?” I asked.

            Zuko nodded before gently placing his hands on my shoulders, “Ying Yue, I know, I promised you that we would leave in a few more days but-”

            “But?” I repeated, eager for him to finish his sentence. Zuko frowned, before finally finishing. “The Earth King has decided to arrive at the Fire Nation to discuss some matters regarding the project Avatar Aang, and I have. Which means, instead of leaving in a few days, we must head to the Fire Nation tomorrow.”

            Leave tomorrow? I felt my shoulders drop in defeat; I understood why Zuko was stressed. Leaving tomorrow left me no time to say goodbye to everyone I wanted or gather the remainder of my things. Zuko seemed to notice that I was distraught as he gently cupped my face, “We depart first thing in the morning. I already sent word to the Fire Nation of our early arrival.” He said quietly as if speaking softer would lessen the blow. I sighed heavily. This was the last thing that I thought would happen. I gazed back at Zuko, and I could tell he was trying his hardest to gauge my level of anger.

            “I understand…” I said faintly. I truly did understand. It was what I signed up for. Fire Lord came first, Zuko came second. Zuko seemed taken aback, “You’re not mad?” He said baffled. I crossed my arms and frowned, “I'm mad, but not at you. It’s out of your control. You have responsibilities, and those things always come first. It would be unfair to hold that against you.”

            Zuko let out a smile of relief and let his forehead fall against mine, as his arms wrapped around my waist. “Thank you for understanding...” He said softly. I smiled and nodded, “Who would get mad? It’s not your fault.” Zuko rolled his eyes before mumbling, “You’ll be surprised.” I titled my head a bit confused before I caught on. He was referring to Mai…did she get upset with Zuko when stuff like this happened? I pushed the thought away; I can overthink about that later, and focused on Zuko’s frown. I knew I had to lighten the mood, for Zuko’s sakes and mine. “Come, I want to bring you somewhere…” I said as I began tugging on his hand. Zuko looked at me confused, “Where to?”

            “The garden.”

            “You guys have a garden?” Zuko said astounded. I laughed and shrugged my shoulders, “Well…its not really a garden. Just a bunch of pine trees…so it’s really just a forest, but, uh, you get the point.” Zuko laughed and shook his head, “If you think that is a garden you're going to be blown away when I show you the gardens we have at the kingdom.”

            “You really weren’t joking when you said a bunch of pine trees…” Zuko said with a chuckle. I playfully bumped my hip into his and rolled my eyes. I knew it was stupid to bring him here. Logic told me that I should be rushing home, saying my goodbyes and getting ready to leave for tomorrow. We seriously had less than 24 hours. But I knew that if I did just that, I would be too upset to get anything done. Nothing was going to change the fact that I was leaving tomorrow, so I might as well have fun while I can.

            So here we were, behind my home, correction, old home, walking around in the forest. Zuko held a red umbrella over our heads, something he insisted on doing since I was too short and kept hitting Zuko on the head with it. I bought an umbrella at the market, which was totally an impulsive buy, like why would I really need an umbrella in the Southern Water Tribe besides not letting the snow touch me? But I figured, I might as well have something coloured red to shade me during our sails, I don’t know when I'm going to find time to shop for stuff when I land. I had a subtle feeling that wearing any shade of blue would be highly inappropriate at the Fire Nation.

            “Ying Yue…?”

            “Hello…”

            “Yue, Babe.”

            My ears perked up, and I turned to look at Zuko. I blushed slightly; he did just call me Yue…and Babe? Zuko never refers to me by my shortened name, always full. “Babe?” I mused. Zuko smiled and shrugged his shoulders, “It got your attention, didn’t it?” I rolled my eyes, and I kept on scanning the forest. The truth was, there was more to this forest than just pine trees. But I was having a hard time finding it with all the snow falling. It was a little secret oasis, somewhere I went to from time to time when I couldn’t see the Southern Lights, but I wanted to be alone.

            “What are you looking for?” Zuko asked, watching my eyes dart back and forth in search for it. “Nothing…” I hummed, but a tad bit of red caught my eye. It’s over there! I tightly wrapped myself around his arm and started gently tugging him towards that direction, “Nothing? Then why are you pulling me?” Zuko said laughing. I grinned and shrugged my shoulders, “Maybe if you just let me pull you, you can find out faster.”

            “What is that red thing over there?” Zuko asked. I pouted and without thinking twice stopped moving and covered his eyes, “Don’t peak! Close your eyes and I'll lead you there.” Swiftly I pulled my hand away, and Zuko did indeed shut his eyes, “Your pretty brave to tell me what to do missy.” I grinned, although he couldn’t see it, and continued dragging him along. Thankfully he didn’t put up a fight, surprising since it was quite evident that Zuko was not one to take orders. It was just a matter of time when we reached the location, and I was thrilled.

            “Open your eyes…” I said softly, as I lightly placed my hands on Zuko’s chest. Hesitantly, Zuko opened his eyes, and his mouth dropped. “Are these…flowers?” Zuko said shocked. I smiled and jumped up in excitement, glad he was as surprised as I wanted him to be. “They're called quince, isn’t it beautiful?” I hummed. Zuko was in complete awe, taking in his surroundings.

            It was a strange sight indeed; something people never think they would see if they came to the Southern Water Tribe. Large trees towered above us, but the magically part of them was the gorgeous red flowers that blossomed from them. It was one of the few and rare species of trees that bloomed during the winter, strong enough to endure the harsh winters. During cold times such as these, the snow would freeze, crystallizing the flowers. It was serene, something you would read out of a children’s book.

            “I-I didn’t know this was possible,” Zuko said in admiration, as he looked up aimlessly, almost in a daze. I giggled, watching his speechless expression as he looked around with fondness. Zuko perked up at my giggle, looking downwards as he watched my cheerful expression. He gave me a soft smile, seemingly taking in my delight. There was just something beautiful about seeing Zuko happy. Seeing him stressed out back at the ship just made something in me eager to make him happy again, even if it was for a split moment.

            “Thank you…” He said softly. I opened my mouth to dismiss his thanks, but Zuko shook his head, his free hand swiftly cupping my chin. His thumb was softly caressing my lips, as to hush me. “Thank you…for just…understanding.” He started. I was caught off guard by his gesture. He was so gentle, so…intimate. Zuko pressed his forehead against mine, towering over my figure as his thumb continued to outline my bottom lip. His touch was warm against my cold skin; it was like ice and fire touching. I could hear his heartbeat right under my hands as they rested against his chest and feel his warm breath against my face.

            “Zuko…” I whispered, not trusting in my voice. I couldn’t help but gaze upon his lips, they were just so tempting, and instinctively, I licked my top lip. I could hear Zuko groan lowly and that was when I noticed he was looking at my lips just as blatantly as I. It was clear. There was an unspoken desire. We both wanted this, but neither one of us wanted to initiate. He wants this just as much as me. I could feel my breath get heavy just at the thought, gosh, I wanted this, no needed it.

            “Yue...we shouldn’t…” Zuko said, his voice hoarse, breath heavy. I whined and found myself pressing closer against Zuko, “Why?” I whimpered out as my fingers began wrapping themselves with the front of his shirt. Zuko closed his eyes, as if being this close to him was painful, “I-I don’t want to force you…” Zuko stuttered, but at the same time, he just pushed himself closer to me. Gosh, Zuko you're so fucking dense.

            “Please.”

            That was all it took. A pathetic plea from me, and within seconds my wishes were answered. Zuko crashed his lips against mine and boy; it felt terrific. His pouty lips felt incredible, perfectly fitting mine like two puzzle pieces coming together. Sparks flew the moment our lips touched. My hands snaked their way around his neck, playing with his hair, only deepening the kiss. I moaned, enjoying every moment, as our lips moved in sync. It was perfect.

            I was so lost into the kiss that the faint feeling of snow falling against my face and a hand tightly wrapped around my waist finally brought me back to reality. Also my human need for air, that was also a kicker.

            Unwillingly we pulled apart; my eyes still closed as our foreheads were pressed against each other. I was breathless, not expecting the kiss to be that intense. I slowly opened my eyes, noticing that Zuko at some point dropped the umbrella onto the ground. I smiled bashfully, causing Zuko to open his eyes. “Someone seemed to enjoy that,” I said with a giggle. Zuko smiled, a shade of pink tainting his cheeks. “I-I’m sorry. I just…I just couldn’t hold back anymore.”

            I smiled and softly pecked him once again, “Don’t be. It was perfect.”

            “Good, because who said I was done.” My eyes widen, and before I could react, Zuko pulled me close once again, kissing me roughly. I melted, his warm touches warming me up. We were complete opposites: hot cold, water fire. I was the escape he needed, while he was my motivation to be better. I smiled into the kiss, blissful. All worries and stresses of us leaving tomorrow for the Fire Nation were gone. I was going to enjoy these last few moments of romance with Zuko while I could.

            I'm falling so hard for you Zuko…

Copyright © 2019 Mystic-Kitten, inc. all rights reserved. No reposting, modifying, or translations of any kind allowed. Thank you for your cooperation.

Disclaimer: I do not own any Avatar characters portrayed in this story besides Ying Yue Jiang, Lia, Kima, and any future creations.

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#zuko #zuko x reader #zuko x oc #avatar the last airbender #love story #love #story #prince zuko #fire lord zuko #series #fluff #romance #avatar #atla zuko #atla #a:tla #masterlist #future smut #fire #firebender #x oc #Thanks for reading! #Have a nice night~!

[the-quiet-winds]

Terrors Don’t Pray on Innocent Victims (part two)

yeah, this one is a fun one. glad you all are enjoying mine and @ichlugebulletsandcornnuts‘s most evil fic (although that’s not entirely true is it?)

[part one]

[Part 2: Sticking it Out, Letting You Down]

parr runs over to jane immediately. “are you okay?” she asks, kneeling down next to her. jane doesn’t answer, staring off after the man with one hand held to her cheek.

“parr! jane!” aragon’s voice calls from behind them. “boleyn said there was trouble, we called the police- what happened?” she finishes, looking down at the two of them, an expression of concern on her face.

“is katherine okay?” jane murmurs, voice quiet and strained. aragon frowns.

“yeah, she’s fine. fast asleep, cleves and boleyn are still with her.”

jane nods as she stands up, ignoring the blood from her ear where she scratched the pavement. “that’s all that matters,” she insists. 

the police car comes screaming onto the street, lights and sirens cutting the dark and silent night. 

“this will be fun,” aragon mutters.

they bring the officers inside to explain the situation to them. katherine is waiting on the stairs when they enter, a panicked expression on her face. “mum!” she practically whimpers, running into jane’s arms.

“kat,” jane says softly. “i thought you were asleep, love.”

“the sirens,” katherine gestures vaguely towards the officers. “they woke me up.” jane hugs katherine tightly before pulling away, resting her hands on katherine’s shoulders.

“sweetheart, i need you to wait upstairs for me with boleyn and cleves while i talk to the officers,” she says. “i promise i’ll be up to make sure you’re okay soon.”

“excuse me, miss,” one of the officers interrupts. “are you katherine?” katherine nods hesitantly. “then i’ll need you to stay and answer a few questions,” he continues. “you’re not in any trouble, we just want a full picture of what’s been happening.”

katherine pales dramatically, even in the low light jane can see her face lose color and her eyes then scared. 

“o-okay,” she whispers. jane takes her hand. “i’ll stay with you, yeah?”

“sorry, ma’am,” the officer cuts in gently. “we need to speak to her alone, just to ensure that nothing is bias.”

katherine looks to jane pleadingly, and jane meets her eyes gravely. she gently kisses her cheek. “i’ll wait for you in the other room.” jane pulls aragon and parr out with her.

katherine sits down opposite the officers, body slightly hunched in on itself. she wasn’t comfortable with male strangers at the best of times, and especially not now, not after what happened. one of the officers leans forwards, looking at her with kindly eyes.

“now, katherine, your friend on the phone told us that there was an incident tonight, and that the man involved had been messaging you for a while. is that correct?”

katherine nods, hands finding a loose thread on the hem of her pyjama shirt.

the other officer sits a notepad on his lap and looks over to her. “could you describe the nature of these messages?”

she shrugs. “they started off like normal fan mail but then they got...weird.”

“could you elaborate, please?”

a lump rises in katherine’s throat and she can’t speak anymore. instead, she takes out her phone and shows the officers the messages, including the ones from earlier. 

jane suddenly enters the room, dried blood clinging to her ear. “there was this, too,” she says fiercely, handing the officer the brick from earlier. “and this.” she gestures to her ear.

the officer with the notepad scribbles something down, while the other smiles gently at jane. “thank you,” he says. “now, katherine, i just need to ask you something, and i need you to tell the truth. i promise you that you won’t be in any trouble, no matter what you answer. did you ever tell this man any personal information about yourself?”

“what? no!” katherine frowns, and jane rounds on the officer.

“of course she didn’t! what kind of question is that?”

“it’s just a formality,” the officer raises his hands. “thank you for answering, katherine. you’ve been very brave. i’d like a word with your mother now.” katherine looks up at jane worriedly, and jane kisses her forehead.

“go and wait in the other room, love.” she didn’t want katherine around to hear what had happened while she’d been asleep. she couldn’t worry her like that.

the officer looks at her darkly. “i need to know exactly what just happened outside. did you tell him anything?”

jane’s face turns dark. “of course not, i would not do anything to risk harming my daughter.”

the officer matches her intensity. “i have zero leads on this man, lady, and we need something to work with here.”

“i can’t tell you much. he was tall and well built, but sounded relatively young. i really wish i could tell you more,” she looks at the officer firmly. “it hurts my soul not to be able to give any more information, officer. i want this man found and put away for the things he said about my daughter.”

the officer matches her gaze for a few moments, then leans back. “okay,” he says finally. “can you give me any examples of what he knew about katherine? things he shouldn’t have known, perhaps? anything that might help us work out how he’s getting his information.”

“he knew too much,” jane recalls. “knew the nicknames i use for her, what we’d been discussing before we met with him, even-” her voice trembles and she pauses for a moment. “even what i say to her to make her feel safe.”

the officer sighs. he really doesn’t want to ask the next question, but he feels he must. “is there any chance any of the other women in this house had any prior communication with him?”

jane looks at him with absolute fury and horror. “how dare you assume that,” she hisses. “how dare you think that any of them would hurt her?!”

“i have to cover all of my bases!” the officer yells back. “if he knew things that no one outside this house knows, that means one of two things: either one of your ladies spilled, or he hacked into your phones.”

“none of us,” jane says, voice dangerously low, “would ever do anything to put katherine in danger. does that answer your question?”

the officer looks at her for a moment longer before sighing. “fine, i think that’s all the questions i need answered. we’ll need a formal written report of the incident from you, katherine, and anyone who witnessed the incident outside.” the officer with the notepad takes some forms out of the pad and places them on the coffee table. “return them to the station by this evening.”

“is that it?” jane asks bitterly. “you aren’t going to do anything else?”

“we’re going to attempt to discover his identity through his accounts and track him that way,” the officer explains.

“and what about katherine in the meantime?” jane asks. “how are we meant to keep her safe?”

the officer looks around the room. “put her somewhere else to sleep?” he offers. “make sure she never goes anywhere alone.” 

jane’s heart clenches. she was so unsafe she couldn’t even be alone. then she holds up the papers. “we’ll have these back later,” she mutters. the officer nods, then softens. 

“we’ll find him.”

jane can’t speak, so she dips her head and leaves the room, really wanting to see her daughter at that moment. 

somehow, in the moments between leaving one room and walking to the other, she gets a series of texts to her phone. 

“if you talk to the police again or file those reports, i’ll make sure you’re thrown in jail,” the first message from an unknown number reads. 

jane, against her better judgement, replies. “for what could you possible incarcerate me for?”

there’s an impossibly long moment before the number replies. 

“we all know the adoption was never and will never be legal. what a shame if someone were to spill something about...kidnapping?”

he sends another message.

“no records of either of you anywhere, convenient, no?”

“you don’t have anything on us,” jane replies, anger coursing through her veins. then she sends another message: “she’s a legal adult who is living with me of her own free will.”

“and i’m sure the judges will accept that once you’ve shown them dear kitty-kat’s birth certificate,” he messages, and jane can almost hear the mocking tone in the second message he sends. “oh wait.”

jane can’t take this any more. she switches her phone off and shoves it into her pocket, entering the room where kat had been waiting.

“kat,” she says slowly, trying not to let her voice shake. “we all need to get rid of our phones. now.”

“what? why?!” katherine shoots to her feet, all traces of sleep vanished from her system. 

jane considers her next words very carefully, not wanting to tell her that they had all of their phone numbers. “the policeman said so. for our own safety. for your safety.”

katherine’s eyes well with tears. “i’m sorry guys,” she says. “this is all my fault.”

“it’s not your fault,” parr insists. “this twisted psycho is trying to hurt you and we don’t want that.”

the house phone rings. at 2am.

they look at each other for a moment, before parr reaches out and picks up the phone. “hello?” she asks cautiously. then- “it’s for you,” she says, looking over at jane with concern in her eyes. jane swallows roughly.

“pass it over,” she says. parr obliges, handing the phone over to jane. she puts it up to her ear and tries her best to keep her voice even, despite some anger and fear bleeding through.

“is this miss jane seymour?” a kind male voice asks. 

“yes, that’s me,” she cautiously answers. 

“i am mister edward hallow, solicitor for the howard family. i’m told that you have custody of a katherine howard?”

jane swallows a lump in her throat. “yes, that is correct.”

“we have a family member who has just turned up from germany, a cousin, looking for her.”

“is that so?” jane suddenly feels very faint.

“he wishes to see her. could we arrange a meeting time and place?”

“i-” jane pauses, thinking of how best to phrase it. “we’ve recently had a bit of an incident, and i just don’t think this is a good time to set up a meeting.”

“i am deeply sorry,” the solicitor says, and his voice sounds genuinely concerned. “i don’t mean to cause any issues, but the cousin in question informed me he is only in England for the next two weeks. are you sure there’s no chance? he seemed very eager to meet her.”

there’s a long pause between the two as jane looks to the other queens, all facing her with concerned eyes. if it wasn’t 2am, and she wasn’t dead tired, she would have quoted aragon and screamed ‘no way in hell!’ but she was tired, not thinking straight. 

so she invites him to the next afternoon’s show.

———————————————————————————————————–

tag list: @percabeth15 @kats-seymour @qualquercoisa945 @jane-fucking-seymour @a-slightly-cracked-egg @justqueentingz @annabanana2401 @wolfies-chew-toy @broad-way-13 @tvandmusicals @lailaliquorice @aimieallenatkinson @sweet-child-why03 @gaylinda-of-the-upper-uplands @funky-lesbians @thinkaboutitmaybe @hansholbeingoesaroundzeworld @anaamess @beeskneeshuh @prick-up-ur-ears @theartoflazy @justqueentwo @brother-orion @paleshadowofadragon @lafemmestars @beautifulashes17 @jarneiarichardnxel @idkimbadwithusernamesandstuff @sixcago @mixer1323 @boleynssixthfinger @aimieallen @elphiesdance @boleynthebunny @krystalhuntress @lupin-loves-chocolate @bellacardoza16 @bluify @second--butthole

#six the musical #six musical #jane seymour #katherine howard #catherine parr #catherine of aragon #anne boleyn #anne of cleves #julie and jess write #terrors don't prey on innocent victims

[hailqiqi]

Message Received and Misunderstood

Once a promising fighter pilot candidate with the best skin in the Garrison, Lance Serrano is now relegated to languishing in cargo training during the day and locking himself in the library at night, sacrificing his self-care for a pile of textbooks like the nerds he used to make fun of.

He doesn't even bother talking to the other late-night regulars -- the boy with the Rubik's Cube, the girl who chews her pens too loudly, or the Sadako-wannabe who's always the only other person in there at midnight.

Friends will only distract him, and he needs to study.

Rating: G

Chapter One: First Contact

4,622 words | Read on AO3

So here’s my contribution to the @planceminibang! Beta’d by the wonderful @sp4c3-0ddity and with art (Chapter 3!) from the fantastically-talented @artemisarya, here’s a little teenage sweetness that’s a bit different from my normal offerings.

Enjoy!

5TH JANUARY

 The rough calculations on the page had long since blurred together by the time his phone blinks for break time, and Lance slumps forward onto the table with a groan.

Twenty minutes. Another twenty minutes that he’s been at this stupid problem, and despite filling both sides of the page up with calculations, he’s still no closer to figuring out if a hafnium carbide vessel would survive the stress of a gravity assist off Saturn or not.

He lifts his head and glares at the paper. Two points were all that had stood between him and making fighter pilot; instead, he’s stuck in cargo training and desperately trying to pull up his grades at night because he needs an extra fifty to make it in off a retest. And despite the lack of sleep and him studying harder than he ever had in his life — even harder than he had for the entrance exams — it’s now half-way through the school year and he’s still staring down a failing grade.

All because of freaking materials science.

Maybe he should just give up. There’s no shame in being a cargo pilot, mijo, his mom had said. Cargo pilots make a steady wage — a good wage, enough to raise a family and have a lot left over. The job wasn’t as boring as it sounded, and there were still opportunities to leave the atmosphere (and while he’d been bottom of fighter, he was top of the cargo class so he’d definitely be given the space runs).

But cargo isn’t what he wants. Maybe he’s being immature, but he wants to swoop and soar and feel the world fall out from underneath him at mach speeds when he jiggles the stick. You can’t do a barrel roll in a cargo ship, even in space.

His phone flashes again and he leans back in his seat, hands over his eyes as he begins to recite the problem again.

“If the hafnium carbide heat shields are two inches thick and have a tensile strength of 14,000 psi at 2,000 degrees…”

It’s way too freaking late for this.

“And Saturn’s gravity is 10.44, and we’re travelling in a prograde direction during the assist and approach from…” This bit he can do. The miss distance, the outgoing velocity, the amount of fuel needed — he’d calculated it so many times now he can rattle the whole thing off by memory, but once he gets past the flight calculations he needs to check his notes to know what happens next. “And then…”

He glances at the paper, checks both sides, and groans again, one hand in his hair. “...And then some random amount of heat is generated and I guess the stupid shuttle explodes and everybody dies, ‘cause I’ll be a flying space cow if I know if it survives or not.”

A snort of laughter from behind makes him jump.

He whips around in his seat, heart in his throat because it’s eleven p.m., who the heck is in the library at this hour?, only to be met by a pair of laughing brown eyes half-hidden behind a curtain of equally brown hair.

Oh, yeah. Her. The only other person crazy enough to be in the library every night, even though he’s fairly sure she’s not studying for the resit since he doesn’t recognise her from any of his classes last year. In all the months they’ve shared a space they’ve barely exchanged a nod, but it looks like that’s about to change because she’s actually speaking to him.

“I’m sorry,” the girl is saying, mirth still flowing in her tone and not looking sorry in the slightest. “That was just really funny.”

Lance rolls his eyes. “I’m glad someone finds it funny.” He begins to turn away but then stops, desperation prodding him to use this opportunity. “You...wouldn’t happen to know the answer, would you?”

The girl looks surprised. “What’s the question? Whether or not the heat shields would survive the gravity assist?” Lance nods, and she blinks. “Well, yeah, of course they would.”

“Uh...Say what?”

“Yes, they’d survive. Zero material stress, actually,” she repeats steadily, her head tilted in confusion. 

“Oh… Thanks,” he manages, and she shrugs and turns back to her textbook.

Lance grabs his sheet of paper, fumbling it in his haste to turn it over and go over all the calculations again because she sounds so sure, like it’s an easy question when he’s been at it for almost a freaking hour now with no results.

What did he miss? He must have missed something. Something obvious? Where are his notes on Kepler’s laws?

With five minutes left on the study clock he gives in and turns back to the girl. The Library Sadako, he’d nicknamed her, since her hair is always covering her face and her pyjamas are as shapeless as a ghost’s robes. Plus she had a habit of appearing and disappearing from the library all but soundlessly. 

But right now she’s his last hope.

“So, uh… How do you prove it?”

She glances up at him, an irritated frown on her face at the interruption, and Lance realises there are bags under her eyes too. But her tone is neutral when she clarifies, “The material stress question?”

Lance nods, and she puts her pencil down and eyes him curiously. “You don’t need to prove it. Those are the specs for The Obol’s heat shields, and that flight path was the one for the return Saturn assist from the Kerberos mission last year. Remember?”

The ticking of the clock in the corner is suddenly much too loud, and all he can do is stare.

“You don’t need to prove it,” she repeats, exasperation creeping into her tone. “It’s already been proven. That’s one of the general knowledge questions.”

He spins back around, practically snarling in frustration as he digs through his papers to find the mock with the question on it.

When he finally finds it, it’s all he can do not to burn the damn thing. Stupid, stupid, stupid… She’s right, and there’s only two lines for an answer. Nowhere near enough space for the pages of vector diagrams and formulas covering his scrap paper.

And he’d wasted an hour on this. Stupid, stupid, stupid…

Maybe he should just go back to the farm. Veronica wouldn’t have been this dumb. Heck, Keith wouldn’t have been this dumb and the guy wasn’t exactly the brightest in the bunch. Still, Keith’s in fighter class while Lance is languishing in cargo, so if Keith’s stupid what does that make Lance?

Really stupid. Space-level stupid. The stupidest stupid to— 

The thud of books hitting the table next to him rips him from his thoughts, and he looks up in surprise to see the girl pulling out the chair next to him, a hesitant smile on her face.

“When I studied for the entrance tests, I always found it easier to focus at night when I had my brother with me, even if we didn’t talk,” she says, one hand on the back of her neck as she sits down. “So, uh, maybe some company will help?”

Without waiting for an answer, she arranges her books, flipping open a notebook and textbook with practiced ease and beginning work on what looks like a flight mechanics question. Lance watches her for a moment, unsure, then sighs and flips to the next question on the paper.

Maybe she’s right. He might as well give it a go, since his solo progress has been nothing to brag about.

It’s almost midnight, anyway.

 *****

10TH FEBRUARY

 As it turns out, Sadako’s name is Katie, and she’s studying for the same exam he is.

But not because she failed round one, like Lance. She’s two grades below him and looking to skip a year.

Lance can’t help but find it a little bit galling, especially when it’s 11 p.m. and she’s just finished walking him through a Critical Reasoning question for the third time like it’s nothing. The formulas — formulae — are all neatly laid out on the paper, but Lance still doesn’t get it.

“Why are you even here?!” he blurts out, his jaw aching from the frustration. Katie recoils, her mouth hanging open and hurt flashing across her face and — oh — he hadn’t meant for that to sound so harsh. 

Especially not when she’d put so much effort into helping him over the last month.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, taking the pencil from her hand gently and putting it down before running his hand through his hair. “It’s just...none of this seems even a little bit hard for you. Why are you bothering to stay up like this?”

It’s something he’s wondered for a while. Katie’s been the only other person in the library until closing almost every night since fall so he’d always assumed they were in similar places, but now they were actually studying together…

“Oh,” she says, the tension leaving her posture again. Apology accepted, Lance guesses, but her eyes linger on his material science textbook instead of him, and her fingers fiddle with the ends of her long hair as she speaks. “Um, well, mat-sci really isn’t that hard for me. My dad’s...uh, my dad works for the Garrison as an engineer, and he does a lot of R&D and he always talks about his work at home, so…”

Katie taps the book, looking distinctly uncomfortable for some reason. Lance raises an eyebrow. “So if you haven’t been studying this, what have you been studying all this time?”

“Flight manuals,” Katie replies, finally meeting his gaze again, and Lance is relieved to see a spark in her eyes again. “I’ve only flown the droids a few times, and some of the older planes in basic, but the practical is a big part of the class exams and since there’s no way I’m going to get any actual practice, if I at least memorise all the flight manuals and mechanics and everything then I should have a shot.”

“Memorise the flight manuals?!”

“Yeah!” Lance stares at her as she chatters on enthusiastically, seemingly oblivious to how absurd that suggestion is in the first place. “A strong foundation in the theory can never be a replacement for practical experience, but it can be the difference between a weak pass and a fail. Of course I’ve been brushing up on stuff like this as well”—she pats the textbook twice—“because the closer I get to a hundred percent on the other subjects, the less a poor practical score will matter. I’ve tried to code my own simulations too” —you’ve tried to what?!—“but obviously I can’t replicate the physical aspects of the hardware with my laptop. I mean, I’d try a set-up of books and stuff just to get the motions down but then my roommate would probably complain even m—”

Lance bursts out laughing, cutting her ramble off abruptly, and Katie narrows her eyes at him.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Laughter still threatens to bubble over, but he pushes it down as he explains, “Just...that’s a lot!” His gaze falls to the notes from their study session and the pile of books spread across the desk, and he suddenly realises how he can pay her back a little. “Hey, my prac scores were pretty high, so I can help you out with that stuff if you want?”

A warm, genuine smile spreads across Katie’s face as she looks at him, and Lance realises with a start it’s the first time he’s seen it. It transforms her, turning her from a tired teenager in pyjamas into something his exhausted brain vaguely recognises as the sun.

“Really?!” Her tone is way too vibrant for this hour of night, and her hair swings back and forth as she bobs in her seat. “That would be the best! Thank you!”

Lance beams.

 *****

20TH FEBRUARY

 Hunk is rambling nervously about his last sim class as students bustle through the hallways when Lance’s phone finally buzzes with a reply.

Mid-terms are in two weeks. Of course I’m coming tonight. Usual time?

He shoots off a thumbs-up and turns back to tune into Hunk’s chatter.

“—and then he broke the whole comms deck and Lance, what if he does that during our mid-terms? Keith already made Iverson angry — and I mean really angry —  and oh, if we get marked down on the pracs because of it then I’m really going to need to pull up my avionics and aero science scores if I want to stay in the top ten,” Hunk continues, breathless. “Oh man, I have no idea how I’m going to do that on top of all this other stuff we have to study! I don’t even want to leave the ground, why do I have to learn how to fly the stupid things?!”

Lance glances up from his phone, a smirk already on his lips. “Because you went to flight school, maybe?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me!” Hunk slumps back against the wall and groans. “Hands down the Biggest. Mistake. Of my life.”

Lance’s phone buzzes with a reply. He checks it quickly, excitement filling him when he sees the small thumbs up icon.

“Hey, if you’re worried about your exam scores, why don’t you study with us in the library sometimes?”

Hunk pauses, expression turning devious as he straightens up and turns to face him. “Us? You mean you and your study girlfriend?”

He waggles his eyebrows meaningfully, and Lance rolls his eyes, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

“Katie. And you know she’s not my girlfriend. She’s good to study with, though, and she said you should come.”

“Hm.” Hunk’s expression doesn’t change. If anything, his smirk grows more irritating. “Okay, I’m in. It’s about time I met the elusive Katie, anyway.”

 *****

10TH MARCH

 The first time Lance sees Katie in daylight is at a diner near campus the week after mid-terms.

“Why don’t you just ask your brother, Pidge?” Hunk asks accusatorially, wielding a fry at the girl across the table rolling her eyes at them. “Can’t he like, just log in and tell me my scores? Given that he’s a famous astronaut and all.”

Katie — Pidge, he has to remember to call her Pidge now because she freaking deserves it after all the lies she told him in the library — grabs the fry from Hunk’s grasp and pops it into her mouth, chewing it deliberately slowly before swallowing and replying with a frown, “You know it doesn’t work like that. And stop calling me Pidge.”

“Aw, but Pidge is such a good nickname. Cute Pidgey-Widgey Pigeon.” Hunk pops another fry into his mouth as Pidge’s expression darkens. 

(For someone who spends most of his time worrying, he’s a heck of a lot braver facing certain death than Lance would be.)

“Oh my God, can’t you just drop it?”

“Nope,” he replies, smirk still firmly in place. “It’s your punishment for keeping secrets. Isn’t that right, Lance?”

Lance glances from Hunk to Pidge, then decides that self-preservation is for losers after all.

“Totally.” He quirks an eyebrow, inwardly delighting at how her eyes narrow as they focus on him. “Hey, don’t look at me like that. You’re the one who was all ‘oh, I’m just good at this because my dad’s an engineer’ and totally forgot to mention that he wrote the freaking textbook.”

“Ugh!” Katie slumps forward, all but slamming her forehead on the table. “Look, I’m sorry if I didn’t tell you guys, but people hear the name ‘Holt’ and get weird, okay?”

The last bit comes out as a mumble, and Lance feels a stab of sympathy. The weight of having successful siblings is something he understands well; he can only imagine the pressure of coming from an entire line of Garrison royalty.

Then again… “We’ve been friends for months, Katie,” he points out. “It just sucks that we had to find out because your famous astronaut brother appeared in the library and started calling you ‘Pidge’.”

Katie raises her head, lips pursed in annoyance. “So what, you guys are going to stop using my real name as my penance or something?”

“Exactly,” Hunk says decisively. “Like, I wouldn’t have cared if you’d told us — hey, Matt was pretty cool, and it’s so freaking amazing that your dad is like one of my engineering heroes — but finding it out like that sucked. You should’ve trusted us enough to tell us.” He pauses, then goes for the kill. “I thought we were friends.”

Her face falls, and Lance is vaguely aware that they might have overdone it.

 *****

25TH MARCH

 The post-Matt interrogation at the diner starts something. Soon, Pidge is joining them for lunch in the canteen every day, and then breakfast, and then before Lance has really processed it their duo has become a trio and it feels weird to think of a time when Pidge wasn’t in their group.

Moments like now, though, remind him.

“Why would he make a fool of himself?”

“Because that,” Hunk answers with a flourish, gesturing at Jenny’s retreating back, “was—”

And Lance suddenly realises that he doesn’t want Pidge to know about this.

He quickly slaps a hand over Hunk’s mouth, ignoring his muffled indignation to smile awkwardly at Pidge. “Y’know what? It doesn’t matter. You don’t need t— armmf!”

Less than two seconds later he’s struggling to breathe, strong muscles wrapped firmly around his head and torso and the pungent smell of Hunk’s armpit filling his nostrils.

“That,” Hunk continues, barely affected by Lance’s struggles for freedom, “was Jenny Shayburn.”

“Who’s Jenny Shayburn?” Pidge asks, and Lance can just imagine her expression: one eyebrow raised with that look that says why must you be like this? as she watches their tussle.

Or, well, Lance would like to call it a tussle. Hunk probably just sees it as an inconvenience.

“Oh, just the love of Lance’s life and his obsession for the last two years. No big deal.” 

Lance slumps against Hunk’s chest and groans. Both Pidge and Hunk latch onto gossip with the ferocity of his brother’s old terrier.

“Oh,” she says, her tone flat. “Weird.”

Lance pushes away from Hunk, who releases him without a fight, but he can’t find any relief in his reprieve. Pidge’s fingers grip her cup tightly as she sips, her gaze fixed on the students entering and leaving the canteen, and Lance feels an odd weight settle in his stomach.

What’s he supposed to say to that? A part of him wants to protest that he hasn’t thought about Jenny in ages, but it feels like... What’s that Shakespeare quote? The one about the lady protesting?

That.

Hunk glances between them, a calculating expression on his face as he takes in the tension at the table, then waves at Pidge to get her attention. “So,” he begins, tone sly, “is there anyone you like? Any special boy in our little Pigeon’s life?”

Lance rolls his eyes and tries to look as disinterested as possible, even though a part of him is on tenterhooks waiting for the answer. It’s not a topic they’ve ever broached in their hangouts. 

“Sorry, no,” Pidge answers quickly, but she’s avoiding their gaze and the lie is obvious, and Lance suddenly wonders who it is and if he could take him in a fight.

Though it’s not like he cares.

“Aw, c’mon, you can tell us,” Hunk cajoles, nudging Lance far too hard in the chest with his elbow. “Bet you loverboy Lance here can give you some tips for catching his eye.”

“Uh, yeah! Sure!” He runs a hand through his bangs, feigning a confidence he’s not feeling. “Advice. I can totally help ya out.”

He grins and shoots her some fingerguns, adding a wink for good measure. There. That was natural.

The deadpan expression on her face doesn’t change (maybe he’s lost his touch?).

“Thanks, but no thanks,” she replies at length, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. “Look, it’s just a crush and he doesn’t like me back anyway. Can we change the topic now?”

For whatever reason, Hunk obliges, and the weird tension that had hung over the table dissipates fairly quickly as they move on to safer topics. The strange taste in Lance’s mouth lingers, though, and he’s not sure why.

 *****

3RD APRIL

 Everybody else in the diner is watching and chuckling and Pidge looks like she’s about to die, but really — she should know by now that they take that as encouragement.

“Haaapppy birthday dear Pigeon…” they bellow, Hunk adding an impressive vibrato on the low note. “Haaapppy birthday tooo—” Lance manages to take it up way-too-high there, grinning proudly when Pidge winces from behind her hands— “you!”

They finish with a poor attempt at harmonisation, bodies half-out of the booth with a flourish of jazz hands as the rest of the restaurant bursts into laughter, whoops and applause.

“Oh my God…” Pidge mutters, finally removing her hands from her face as the noise dies down. “Can I blow these stupid things out now?!”

Her tone is deadpan but her cheeks are a bright pink, but the sparkle in her eyes is what really gives her away. She’s pleased, she just thinks she’s too cool to show it.

(Or something. Sometimes Pidge really confuses him.)

After several unsuccessful attempts to blow them out, Pidge plucks the sparklers from her pile of pancakes and rapidly-melting ice cream and dunks them both in Lance’s water before he can stop her. Then she waves the dead sparklers in his direction with narrowed eyes and hisses, “I know the sparklers were your idea.”

“You wound me!!” Lance protests, his hand on his heart as he pretends to swoon. “You should know by now I only have your wellbeing at heart!”

“Nah, she’s not that dumb, buddy,” Hunk adds. Pidge snorts, turning into a full-blown laugh when Lance flops onto the table dramatically at Hunk’s betrayal, getting ice-cream in his hair in the process.

They dig into their pancakes with gusto, discussing their plans for when spring break starts the next day (Lance and Pidge are both heading home — Lance to Cuba to help with the calving and ploughing, Pidge to her family’s house just outside post — while Hunk is staying on at school for the fortnight) and debating the perfect topping combination and whether or not they’d be able to eat them when they finally made their way into space. It’s the most carefree meal Lance has had in a while — the perfect end to a busy term — and it’s enough to make him forget about the gift bag on the seat next to him.

But eventually the plates are cleared and the butterflies come back full-force when Hunk drops his gift on the table with a thud.

“Seriously?!” Pidge exclaims, beaming as she looks between them. “Guys, you didn’t need to!”

“Hey, this one’s just from me! Open it.” He pushes the box towards Pidge, winking surreptitiously at Lance as he adds, “Lance has his own present for you.”

Pidge tears into Hunk’s gift with gusto, her eyes lighting up as she removes what looks like a very small version of the throttle used in the fighter sims. Hunk starts rattling off its specs — he’d picked up an old one and basically reengineered the part with help from his whiz-kid pilot — and Pidge launches into a series of questions, almost all of which fly way over Lance’s head.

He tunes out of the conversation somewhere around the point where they start making plans for Hunk to visit her over the break to help install it, instead choosing to sit back and watch his friends interact. The hair in Katie’s ponytail is swinging all over the place as she does that excited bobbing thing she does, and he can’t help but think that it’s ridiculously cute.

A well-placed elbow rips Lance from his thoughts and he hurriedly grabs the bag and shoves it across the table, almost tipping it over in the process and wincing at how uncool he must look.

He quickly flashes a pose and follows it up with a wink and fingerguns (fingerguns can save any situation. Fact). “Mine’s the best, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Pidge drawls with a smile, but her brow furrows as she accepts the bag and looks inside. “Uh, did you forget your umbrella in here…?”

“Oh! No, no, that’s for you.” Hunk’s shoulders are shaking with laughter beside him, and Lance can feel his cheeks heating up. “Just like, you seem like a practical girl, and an umbrella’s a practical gift!”

The fingerguns come out again, and Pidge rolls her eyes with a laugh as she places the green-and-blue umbrella to the side (really he’d just picked it up so he wasn’t just giving her the other thing, but she didn’t need to know that). “Okay…”

The butterflies return in full force as she opens the bag again and pulls out the slim box, her expression shifting to one of surprise as she recognises it.

“Go on. Open it,” he says, answering the question in her eyes, and he can’t help his lips from pulling up into a smile when she does so and gasps.

“Lance…” She looks from him to the necklace in the box, eyes wide and lips parted, then shakes her head. “Lance, I can’t accept this! It must have cost you a fortune.”

But the way she’s looking at it — at him — lets him know that she really wants to, and that’s enough for the butterflies to finally settle into something warm and soft instead.

“Nah, it wasn’t that much.” Only his whole allowance for the month, but she didn’t need to know that, either. “I just saw it and thought it would suit you. And you only turn sixteen once, right?”

She flashes him a smile and looks back at the necklace, eyes soft as her fingertip traces over the intricate gold and green pendant. He’s telling the truth about thinking it would suit her — he saw it on a trip to the mall and immediately wanted to get it for Pidge, and that was before he’d known her birthday was coming up. 

Hunk is nudging him with his elbow, making weird noises that Lance knows translate to ‘See? See? I told you she’d like it’ and Lance feels an urge to laugh because he’d been so stupidly nervous about giving her his gift — even though it’s just a necklace! It’s not like it’s a ring or anything else with some weird hidden meaning.

“Could you help me put it on?”

He stares at Pidge, startled by the shy question. Her cheeks are a bright pink but she’s not looking away and he nods dumbly, rooted to the spot until Hunk all but shoves him out of the booth and towards Pidge’s side.

“I, uh… Sure.”

His fingers barely tremble as he removes the necklace from the proffered box, and then Pidge is leaning forward and flipping her ponytail out of the way and before he really knows what’s going on he’s fastened the clasp and is drawing away from the pale, freckled skin of her neck and back to his side of the booth (which suddenly feels so, so far away), fingertips burning as he takes his seat again.

“Thanks.” Pidge beams at him as she fiddles with the pendant displayed on her chest.

Lance nods dumbly, heart pounding. Her skin was so soft. Are all girls that soft?

He glances from Pidge’s smile to the pendant, finally breaking into a genuine smile himself as one thought crosses his mind. 

He was right. It does suit her.

#plance #pidgance #flirtyrobot #lidge #pance #my writing #plance mini bang #high school au #sort of? idk we'll just say that kerberos was a success and the galra don't exist #What If We Were Alone In The Universe #oops now we're getting all Jayden Smith existential #except the galra must exist because keith exists BUT ANYWAY they didn't catch Shiro or the Holts #probably because they looked into the future and realised Pidge is fucking terrifying and they'd better leave her fam alone if they want #the empire to remain intact #ANYWAY #have some teenage angst

[utopianvoices]

paws off | l.minho

↭ genre: relationship au; fluff

↭ word count: 2.5k

↭ a/n: thanks for the request love!! i’m not sure what genre you want so i’ll just go with my own ideas if that’s okay <3 it’s my first fic after quite a while so i hope it’s not too shitty asldkfj hope you like it :3

↭ prompts: “It’s not mine, I swear.” - “How is it not fucking yours!”

↭ warnings: explicit language

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

“Y/n, no. We’re not going in there. The last time we went there you wouldn’t leave even past closing time and we were practically kicked out,” your boyfriend huffed, stuffing his hands into his black leather jacket that he, after much persuasion and threats, claimed back from you. “I’ll take you to any fucking shop, except that shop.” 

“Oh come on, Minho. Stop being such a party pooper,” you whine, tugging on the hand that was clasped around yours, turning around to face your boyfriend who was staring holes at the shop’s entrance.

Happy Paws, it read.

You had always wanted a dog — a really fluffy, cute, energetic one — to brighten up the atmosphere in your new shared apartment with Minho. Both of you had decided to get an apartment together after being together for nearly two years, and everything was perfect. Except for one thing.

Minho didn’t like dogs.

He only liked cats and although you had tried your best to continuously show him photos and videos of dogs, it never worked. 

y/n: [15 photos attached] y/n: babe, check this out!!!! it’s so cute (ಥ﹏ಥ) side hoe: first of all side hoe: why are you texting me, i’m right opposite you side hoe: second of all side hoe: stop sending me fluffy devil photos ffs 

That definitely earned him a kick and a threat of making him sleep on the couch, although the both of you knew that that was never going to happen; you needed your cuddle buddy. 

Every time the two of you paid a visit to the shopping mall 3 blocks away from your apartment, you would drag Minho into the pet shop, and he usually grudgingly complied. However today, he wasn’t in the mood to have “fluffy devils” — as he liked to refer to them as — pouncing on him and licking him all over as if he were some ice cream bought on a hot summer day. 

“No, Y/n. I’m not coming. So if you really want to, you can go ahead while I go visit H&M,” he announced firmly, gently prying your hand off of him, and turning to walk the opposite direction towards the retail outlet. 

You sighed and cast a last glance at the neon sign — which flickered every now and then due to the lack of maintenance — and jogged to catch up with your very, very grumpy boyfriend. 

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

The theme song of F.R.I.E.N.D.S was blasting as you lay lazily on your couch, scrolling through Twitter and saving a funny meme every now and then. 

With your pyjamas on and with a bowl of popcorn on your lap, you were not in any mood to move, already merging into one with your couch. But fate wasn’t on your side. Not even 15 minutes into your favourite show and your doorbell rang incessantly, not even giving you time to get yourself together and walk over to the door. 

Only one person was that impatient, and that was Han Jisung, the bane of your existence, also known as your best friend. 

Setting your popcorn bowl down on the table, and turning down the volume of the TV, you noticed that the weather had completely shifted from before you started your show; it was a downpour. Quickly hurrying to the door, you opened it gently, only to be pushed back as Jisung slammed the door open, hurrying in, completely drenched.

“Ew, Han Jisung! GET OFF MY CARPET!” you screeched, kicking his legs as you pulled him away from your precious cream coloured wool carpet that took you months to save up for. If anything were to happen to that carpet, you knew that you were going to make Jisung pay for every single cent. 

“Geez, calm yourself woman. It’s just a carpet!” he exclaimed, looking around nervously. “Is Minho home?”

“No, he’s out for dance practice. Why?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at his tensed posture and nervous glances; something was definitely up. “Why do you look like you just committed a crime?” 

At this, Jisung let out a nervous chuckle, holding his coat tighter and moving slightly away from you, trying to hide whatever he was guilty of from you. But you were too observant and immediately zeroed in on the problem.

“What’s up with your coat? The first thing you do is throw your coat onto the couch, so why are you holding onto it as if your life depends on it?” you enquired, moving closer to him, wanting to get to the bottom of his weird behaviour. 

“U-uh, its nothing! It’s just really cold here and I think I really need to keep my coat on, in case I fall sick? Yea, because of that,” he stuttered out, sounding more like he was convincing himself instead of you. 

That’s it, you knew something was wrong. Your best friend never stuttered unless he really did something that he knew was going to piss you off.

“Spit it out, Han Jisung, or else I’m going to tell Felix about your crush on his sister,” you said, smiling slyly as his eyes widened in horror. If there was anything scarier than you being mad, it’s Felix being mad, especially when it involved his precious sisters.

“Omg fine I’ll spit it out, but before that, let me explain clearly so that-” he started, but was cut off by a small sound coming from his coat. One that sounded a lot like a bark.

You heard it again, surprise filling your eyes as Jisung’s shoulders drop in defeat, hand reaching into his oversized coat to carry the cutest puppy you had seen in your entire life. 

“I was walking over to Felix’s place from the mall when it started pouring and I saw this little fella running around trying to find shelter. It was so tiny and looked like it was lost so I just grabbed it to check for a collar,” he said, scratching the puppy behind it’s (you hadn’t checked for genders) ears as the puppy cuddled closer into him, visibly shivering. “There was no collar,” he continued, pointing to the pup’s empty neck. “I couldn’t just leave him there, but I couldn’t bring him back to my campus because my RA doesn’t allow pets.”

“So, your dumbass thought that it would be a great idea to bring it to my place where my boyfriend, who LOVES dogs, lives with me,” you deadpanned, causing Jisung to chuckle sheepishly and scratch the back of his head. 

“Hey Y/n, I just saw an extra pair of shoes outside. Who’s here?” Minho’s voice travels through the apartment, causing both you and Jisung to jump on your spot. Oh no. 

You stood frozen at your spot, unable to move, as Jisung ran into your master bedroom and hid the puppy under the bed, immediately taking off towards the way out of your apartment. 

“Oh hey, Jisung! I didn’t expect you to be here-”

“Yes yes, it was great meeting you Minho! I gotta go now,” Jisung says, words rushing out of his mouth as he ran out of your apartment at the speed of light. 

Minho just stares at the door, unable to comprehend what just happened, when he saw you standing in the middle of the apartment, still unable to move from your spot for fear of what might happen if Minho found out about the new uninvited guest.

“Hi love,” he drawls out, as he places a soft kiss on your lips, a usual greeting between the both of you when either of you gets home. “What’s up with Jisung?” 

The kiss seemed to snap you out of your thoughts, as you chuckled nervously. “H-Hahaha just typical Jisung, you know?”

“True,” he nods along, as he walks towards your bedroom, dying to get into the toilet for a nice hot bath.

Before you could stop yourself, you grabbed Minho and swerved him away from your bedroom, causing him to collide with the wall behind him.

“Woah nevermind Jisung, what’s up with YOU today?” he asked, surprised by your sudden movements. 

“Uh... I just wanted to say that you look so amazing today? Like wow, how am I dating a GOD,” you say, throwing compliment after compliment, hoping that it will distract him from his usual chores. If there was something that Minho loved more than you, it was being complimented by you.

His surprised feature slowly morphed into one of his infamous smirks, as his hands found your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“Hmmmm I like what I’m hearing. Go on,” he encouraged, smirk ever present on his flawless face. 

You started off your list, relieved that his attention was diverted to you and the words spewing from your mouth, and not at the tiny creature lurking around in your bedroom, curious about its new environment.

With every compliment, the space between both of you decreased, as the reason you even started this was erased from your mind. Right then, it was just you and Minho, everything else forgotten.

You stared into his eyes, captivated by the intensity he held in them, as it spoke stories to you. It never ceased to amaze you; how you scored someone Lee Minho.

Just as you felt the ghost of his lips on yours, eyes closed and heart beating erratically, the both of you heard something that caused you all to freeze on the spot. You, in fear that you had been caught, and him, in confusion.

Woof.

Well, fuck.

“What was that?” Minho asked, glancing between you and your bedroom door, the confusion slowly dissipating as annoyance took over his features.

“W-what? I didn’t hear anything?” you forced out, avoiding eye contact with the boy in front of you. 

Before you could stop him, he marched towards your bedroom and yanked the door open, your words of protests dying in your mouth.

Less than a minute later, Minho stomps out, fury written all over his face as he points to your bedroom. “What the fuck is that doing here? You know I don’t like dogs, and yet you buy one?!” 

“It’s not mine,” you start, letting out a sigh at the fact that you had successfully pissed him off.

“Come on, I’m already pissed, don’t give me stupid excuses.”

“It’s not mine, I swear!” you say, raising your voice slightly to prove your point. 

“How is it not fucking yours?!” he shouted back, causing you to wince at his tone. You face the floor, unable to look at him as the guilt of doing something that he didn’t like ate you up, even though it wasn’t really your fault.

Your eyes didn’t leave the wooden flooring even when you heard a retired sigh leave Minho’s lips, footsteps coming towards you as you finally see his socks clad feet right in front of you. 

“Jisung left it here,” you started, slowly lifting your head to look at him. “It was raining and it was lost, and Jisung brought it here because his RA doesn’t allow him to keep pets. I’m so sorry, I should have told you sooner, but it just happened really fast and I didn’t want to piss you off, but that didn’t really work out very well so now you’re mad and-”

“I’m not mad,” he said, cutting you off. “I was just surprised and assumed you got one without even telling me. I’m going to kill Jisung,” he finished, pulling you in for a hug, as an indication to prove his words — he really wasn’t mad.

You buried your face into his chest, taking in a deep breath as his scent calmed you down, causing you to squeak out one last “I’m sorry”.

“So... What are we going to do now?” he asked, staring at you expectantly. Oh, right. The problem wasn’t solved.

“Um, I can ask around for anyone who’s willing to take it? But that’ll take time, wouldn’t it? And since you don’t like dogs, we can’t keep it here, so maybe I could go to that pet store at the mall and get them to keep him? I don’t know if they do such things but-” you rambled on, disappointment growing in you at the fact that you had to give away that cute little thing that had found its way into your heart at first sight.

“We can keep him,” Minho cut in, causing your ramble to come to a halt. You blinked at him, mouth half open, unable to believe the words that just came out of his mouth.

“Close your mouth, honey. You’re going to catch flies,” he said, shaking his head slightly as a smile grew on his face. “What kind of a boyfriend would I be if I don’t give my girlfriend what makes her the happiest? I could see the disappointment on your face, baby. And there’s nothing I hate more than that. So maybe I can make some space for that fluffly devil in this house.”

Your heart was threatening to burst out of its seems as he finished his little speech, your face immediately lighting up, as you threw your hands around him, causing him to stumble backward.

“I love you I love you I love you,” you chanted, as you untangled yourself from him after planting a kiss on his cheek, rushing towards the bedroom to introduce your new puppy to your boyfriend. 

“Hey! You better not forget about me, alright? I better be receiving more love than that fluffy devil!” your boyfriend called out, only to be met with your beautiful laugh bouncing off the walls.

You cradled your new baby in your arms as you carried him (you finally checked) out into the living room, as Minho waited expectantly to see the little creature that got you so happy.

As soon as his eyes met yours, the puppy squirmed around in your arms, indicating that he wanted to be let down. As you bent down and gently placed him on the ground, little paws rushed towards the boy in front of you, as the puppy rubbed himself against Minho and nudged him with its nose, clearly wanting to be held by Minho.

Hesitantly, Minho picked the little one off the ground, instinctively scratching the little pup behind its ears, causing the little canine to relax into his arms, its small tongue poking out from the side of its mouth.

You cooed at the sight in front of you, happy that you could see Minho’s walls slowly break down around dogs.

“It’s true,” he spoke up, causing you to look at him curiously. “It’s different when it’s yours, and not just some random one roaming the streets.”

Your eyebrows raised as you let a small chuckle escape you. “I’m pretty sure that’s only applicable to children.”

“Oh, right.”

You walk over to where Minho was busy playing with the new pup, joining both of them on the floor. Sometimes going through hardships to attain something, just made it that much more satisfying. You smiled to yourself, as you made a mental note.

Thank Jisung later.

∞ end ∞

#skz-writersnet #skzwriters #district9net #stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #lee minho imagines #lee know imagines #lee minho scenarios #lee know scenarios #lee minho #lee know #dee scribbles

[purplepersnicketywrites]

If you’re still taking prompts for drabbles, maybe a hurt/comfort one for kirishima with bakugou after the eri rescue and everything with rappa?

Hm… I have what I believe might be an interesting take on this that I’ve been thinking about…

Eijirou woke up hungry. It wasn’t really a surprise, given everything that had happened over the past week. It was just that it was about half past two in the morning.

Eijirou lay awake for a few minutes, trying to ignore the growling of his stomach. Ugh. Wasn’t gonna happen. He got up, stretched his arms over his head, and crept from his room as silently as possible. He didn’t wanna wake Bakugou or Shouji up.

The journey down the stairs was uneventful, but when he got to the common room, he could see that the TV was on. The sound was muted on what looked like an action movie, but the subtitles were on. Looked like whoever was watching was being considerate of everyone who was still asleep.

There was a lump on one of the sofas - one of Eijirou’s peers wrapped up in a duvet - and Eijirou coughed slightly to alert them to his presence. The lump shifted, and Eijirou made out a tuft of pale hair as Bakugou turned to look at him.

“Hey, man,” Eijirou said, keeping his voice low. Bakugou paused the movie and shuffled up a little on the sofa. It was as much of an invitation as anything, so Eijirou hurried over to sit down next to his friend.

“Whatcha doin’ up, dude?” Eijirou asked. Bakugou shrugged. Eijirou hadn’t had much of a chance to talk to him since he’d come back after the raid and Bakugou had been on his supplementary lessons.

“What are you doing?” Bakugou asked. Eijirou shrugged, but he let a grin slip onto his face to show he was just mimicking Bakugou’s response. “Bastard.”

“Why don’t you guess,” Eijirou said.

Bakugou squinted at him.

“The leftovers?” Bakugou guessed. Eijirou nodded his head and the blond rolled his tired-looking eyes. “Figures, what with you burning like, eight thousand calories a day.”

Eijirou bit his lip, flushing a little. It wasn’t actually an exaggeration. “Yeah. So tell me what you’re doing watching a movie in the middle of the night.”

Bakugou shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Hm. There could have been any number of things that could have driven Bakugou out of his room and down to the sofas at this time in the morning.

“Hm,” Eijirou said. His stomach growled and Bakugou gave a soft little snort of amusement.

“Go get the leftovers, then,” Bakugou said. “I only just started this thing.”

Eijirou grinned and hopped up. He scurried towards the kitchen and zeroed in of the fridge. Technically, the leftovers were from their big group meals and belonged to everyone. Also technically, whoever got them was based on a first-come, first-served basis. When Eijirou got them, no one else was served.

He didn’t mind eating anything from last night’s meal cold, so he paused to grab two pairs of chopsticks and moved back to the common room. He hopped onto the sofa and Bakugou extended the edge of the duvet to him so that they could share.

It was a big, double-bed sized duvet, so Eijirou didn’t really need to snuggle up against his friend as closely as he did. Still, Bakugou didn’t complain or anything. He cracked open the container for the leftovers and handed Bakugou one pair of chopsticks. Bakugou had rewound the movie while Eijirou was in the kitchen, so he pressed play and they settled in to watch it and eat together.

About a third of the way through the movie, Bakugou paused it, sitting up from where he’d been leaning heavily on the arm of the sofa. This dislodged Eijirou somewhat, who had been leaning heavily on Bakugou.

“Hey,” Bakugou said, giving him an expression that Eijirou wasn’t sure how to read.

“Are- How are you?” Was he… worried? Concerned? Eijirou’s heart swelled at the idea that his friend was trying to reach out like this. “After all that raid fuckery.”

“I’m okay,” Eijirou said. “Really.”

He meant it, too.

Bakugou pouted a little and looked to the side. “You don’t have to hide shit if it’s bothering you.”

“I’m not,” Eijirou said. He reached out to slug Bakugou gently on the arm. “I’m actually kinda glad all of it happened.”

“You’re glad you got beat up?” Bakugou asked, scowling.

“Well, I mean, no,” Eijirou admitted. “That part I kinda didn’t enjoy. But like… The fight kinda opened my eyes a little, y’know?”

Bakugou watched him, expression tightening further. Okay, Eijirou probably needed to explain.

“Look, man, I’m - I was - kind of a coward,” Eijirou said. Bakugou opened his mouth but Eijirou held up a hand. “I’m not any more! I know that. But like, I was all talk and no walk when I was in middle school. My quirk was kinda shitty, and I wasn’t willing to commit to some of the things that I started. I got scared pretty easily, and intimidated when I got hurt. Or if I thought I’d get hurt. I saw something real scary once and all I did was freeze.”

Eijirou looked at his hands. “I started working on my quirk, though, and now it’s pretty powerful. I guess. It’s kept me out of a lot of harm. I sort of stopped being afraid ‘cause suddenly I was strong. I couldn’t be hurt, so why should I retreat from anything? You said it yourself: ‘if you refuse to back down, it means you’re stupidly strong’.”

Eijirou paused.

“But?” Bakugou prompted, tilting his head.

“But,” Eijirou agreed. “The raid was, um. I got scared again. Scared of the guy I fought - Rappa. His quirk was so strong. My quirk couldn’t stand up to him… He was someone who could genuinely hurt me. I thought that I hadn’t actually changed at all. I froze.”

“You didn’t stay frozen,” Bakugou said, as sure as if he’d been there.

Eijirou smiled. “No, I didn’t. I think that’s what I’m glad about. I’ve changed! I’m still not where I wanna be, but I am getting there. I can talk the talk, I can walk the walk, and now I need to learn how to run.”

Bakugou nodded, and Eijirou saw understanding light up in his eyes, so he grinned.

“I really was just up ‘cause I was hungry. All that healing stuff from Recovery Girl’s been taking it out of me,” Eijirou continued. “She said I’m lucky I didn’t scar all over my arms like Midoriya’s hands, ha. Well, she didn’t mention Midoriya, but I-”

Bakugou put a hand over his mouth. “You’re rambling. Let’s get back to the movie.”

Bakugou took his hand away and reached for the remote again. Eijirou caught ahold of his wrist instead. “Wait.”

Bakugou scowled at him and pulled his wrist away. “What?”

“Something’s bothering you, huh?” Eijirou pressed, tilting his head and meeting his friend’s eyes. “You don’t have to tell me anything, buddy, but you can. If you want.”

“I know,” Bakugou said, in the smallest voice Eijirou had ever heard from him.

Neither of them spoke or even moved much for a few moments. Then Eijirou was yanked forward into a hug. It took Eijirou a second to realise that Bakugou was clinging to him, face pressed to Eijirou’s shoulder. When he did, he pulled Bakugou closer so that they were chest to chest. Eijirou could feel the blond take shuddering breaths against him.

Eijirou rubbed small circles over Bakugou’s back. This was not really what he’d been expecting, but he didn’t mind one bit.

Bakugou relaxed his hold a little, but he didn’t move away.

“You were on the news,” he said, his normally-gruff voice sounding even gruffer. “It didn’t- Fuck. You didn’t look good, but they got you to the doctors. Then the news said that Sir Nighteye died even though he was taken to hospital.”

“Oh,” Eijirou said.

So Bakugou, at least, had been worried that Eijirou was gonna-

“Oh,” Eijirou repeated. “Hey, man, I’m alright.”

Bakugou grunted and finally moved back a little. Not far. His hands bunched up on Eijirou’s pyjama shirt, on the shoulders. Bakugou was looking down. Eijirou leaned forwards a little to press their foreheads together.

“Hey-”

“You’re my best friend, Kirishima,” said Bakugou. Oh.

“You know it’s gonna take more than a few super punches to get rid of me, right?” Eijirou said, smiling despite himself.

“Yeah,” said Bakugou, and Eijirou heard him sniff.

“I’m gonna get stronger,” Eijirou promised. “I’m gonna become Unbreakable for real.”

“You’d fuckin’ better,” Bakugou said, pulling back more to look up at him.

Bakugou’s expression was so intense. His red eyes pierced Eijirou’s, and Eijirou fancied that maybe Bakugou could see into his soul with a look like that. Eijirou sort of wanted to kiss him, then, but it wouldn’t really be the right moment for it, when they were both tired in the early morning and Bakugou had just definitely not cried into Eijirou’s shoulder.

Eijirou settled for saying something instead, wondering if Bakugou had seen that desire sweep over his brain. Wondering if he minded at all. “You’re my best friend, too, Bakugou. Wanna keep watching the movie?”

Bakugou nodded, and pulled Eijirou back against him to where they had been before he’d sat up. He pressed play, and left his arm around Eijirou’s shoulders.

“Hey, if you ever wake up and need to watch something,” Eijirou said. “You can just come to my room.”

“Your room doesn’t have a big-ass screen in it,” Bakugou said, snorting with derision.

Eijirou grinned. “It does have a me, though.”

“Hm,” Bakugou’s grip around his arms squeezed just a little tighter. “Dunno if that’s worth it.”

Eijirou shuffled just a little, so he could let his head flop down onto Bakugou’s chest. “I think it’s a pretty good deal.”

“You’re biased.”

“And you’re not?” Eijirou asked.

Bakugou glanced down at him, one eyebrow raised. “Never.”

Eijirou grinned some more, and made a mental note to stock up on snacks for whenever it was Bakugou would knock on his door.

#kiribaku #bakushima #fanfiction #drabble #reply #anon #my fanfiction

[7wanderingpaws]

Legal Birthday (GOT7 Jackson)

Pairing: Jackson x reader

Genre: Spy AU

Word Count: 9.8K

Warnings: small violence, blood, a little seductive?

The room was dark and very clean for it to be hiding something dangerous and gnarly but despite your surprise, you steadily advanced ahead, your steps silent shaming even the sneakiest cat.

“It should be hidden in the most uncommon of places,” you heard in your ear, pressing the in-ear with your middle finger further inside. “Keep looking, we cannot lose this one.”

“I am on it,” you murmured. You were so happy you managed to catch the owner of the apartment away. This way, you could get rid of all the nasty things he was hiding without any trace. Although, you did wish to witness his surprised face to see all his treasures disappeared.

Going around the kitchen, you looked through each drawer, opening the dish washer, the fridge… it was nowhere to be found.

It took you another 10 minutes of close analysis to finally advance to the bedroom area. There was a tingling sensation in the pit of your stomach, as if it was signalling, that this was the moment the entire truth would come to the surface.

“All clear. Keep proceeding.”

  Reaching for the drawer, you opened it to find neatly arranged sweaters and shirts and some expensive watches. Your heart was thundering as you reached deeper. Just when your hand brushed something concrete that should not be in a usual drawer, your in-ear blew up: “You’re not alone anymore, immediately withdraw! Y/N, get out of there-”

In that instant you turned and without thinking twice, you smashed the dark body of the intruder into the nearest wall harshly, your inner instincts bringing the best out of you. You bared your teeth as if a tiger, and held the strong stranger with your elbow pressed to his neck. He did not budge though. His face was covered in a mask and he was wearing a black hat, making it impossible to read even the slightest into his face.

“Who are you,” you growled deeply and pressed harder against his neck. “Who sent you. Who do you work for. Answer or else-”

The stranger attacked suddenly and you cursed under your breath for letting down your guard for a heartbeat. Now it was you being pressed against the wall but your leg immediately shot up, kicking him into his waist and pushing into his chest, making him tumble backwards.

Your hand reached out and snapped the mask downwards and the other hand took off his hat. Fluff of brown hair sprung free, freshly washed and soft under your harsh fingers.

The view was nothing you expected and a loud, horrified gasp was the only reaction you were able to let out.

In this split second, he had you pinned against the wall, his breath fanning over your open mouth, still in pure shock. His deep dark eyes were boring into yours, while his free hand reached into your hair. He grabbed the fake wig you were wearing and slowly dragged it down, his eyes snapping to your own hair. He was looking there for a minute, letting the reality sink in.

“So this is how we meet again,” he mumbled, his focus now back on you.

Your heart was thundering, your legs suddenly wobbly, ready to give out. You knew he was still in the business, you knew almost everything about him despite not being with him for over four years.

“Jackson,” you breathed, still in pure shock. A few seconds had to pass by for you to remember that you wanted to kill him. You needed to get him, beat him up for everything he did to you.

 “What on Earth are you even doing here? This is not a place for you,” he said hurriedly, worry smudged across his handsome face. He was much older than you but his age didnt show any signs at all. His masculinity did the exact opposite things to you and hated yourself for it.

However, his last words turned your shocked face into a rock-hard glare. “You don’t know anything about me. Not anymore. ”

Jackson’s eyes frantically switched between your eyes, searching for any other answers than what you were willing to share.

“What happened to you,” he finally asked. “What did they do to you? Why did they send you?”

You smirked, hoping your next words will finally make him obey. “I came to kill you.”

- - -

Hong Kong, 5 years ago

Your seventeenth birthday was fine. Nothing special. The cake was good.

"Why are we even sitting at home, girls?” shouted Moya, the extremely self-centred friend of yours. “Let’s go watch the training!”

“You know we can’t,” you sighed wanting to be alone. Or with one single person that was on your mind nonstop – and who was participating in the mentioned training. “Boys don’t mix with girls.”

“But your daddy is more influential than mine! I’m sure he will forgive you too, you are his princess after all,” chirped Lucy, the kinder one.

You pressed your lips together. “I don’t think so…”

Training of some muscly men that gave you no perspective whatsoever. You were not a turned on teenager, making you doubt your sexuality on a whole new level. Lots of sweat, lots of grunts, oh yeah, the best thing to ever happen to a girl, right?

Not really, or at least not in your opinion. You still didn’t really know what all those men were training for. It was by complete accident that you know about this, because you followed your father to his workplace one day. As soon as he found out, you got a strong slap across your face, getting shouted at and locked up in your massive mansion you lived in. Alone. Well, with your father.

There was no reason for him to get so worked up over spying a little bit, but later you started to realise that his job might be something else than what it looked like. After all, you spent all your time at home (why did your father even bother to “lock you up” in the house when you couldn’t leave the house anyway?) thinking, combining. Of course, dreaming, too when it came to a certain someone.

Just then, your father appeared in the doorway to the hallway. “Love, I’m leaving. I’ll come back with Jackson to discuss some business.”

You gulped, your mouth slowly opening without really you noticing.

“Can we come too?” asked Moya in a high-pitched tone, already standing up from her chair. “We’ll behave, promise.”

Your father laughed and looked at you. You were too busy now collecting your frantic thoughts. “Maybe another time, ‘right?”

I’ll come back with Jackson to discuss some business. Jackson.

The girls were disappointed but obeyed nonetheless.

Lucy elbowed Dara (the quieter one), pointing sneakily at your zoned out face. “You want to get laid for your birthday, huh?”

Your stare was distant, however.

The girls smirked once again. “Right, I know what it is,” said Moya.

When you still didn’t react to them, she just plainly said, curling her long hair around her index finger. “Mmm, Jackson is coming over. I might as well stay over for the night, hoping he will come to me at the dark hours.”

That made your head snap up right away. Your heart was thundering in your heart, your legs shaky and you weren’t even standing. Gulping, you combed your fingers through your hair.

The girls laughed at you. “Don’t worry, she won’t,” promised Lucy, probably the only normal one in your group of girlfriends. “Jackson has high standards.”

“Excuse me?” yelped Moya but immediately laughed.

“So,” you started your voice too gentle for their harsh thoughts. “Where is the alcohol you’ve been promising for my birthday? Where’s the weed, too? I - like - need it right now but you didn’t do shit about it.”

Silence fell over the little circle table you sat around. They exchanged looks.

Coming from wealthy families, they sure had some strong language and promises all the damn time, but at the end of the day, they never did anything dangerous. They were just fake brats that had zero idea about their lives or its values.

You smiled, standing up from the table after they didn’t answer. “Well, just as I thought so. I’m heading up. Feel free to grab whatever your poor hearts wish for,” you said, your voice fake-kind. Turning, you walked to the staircase, happy to be out of their presence.

None of your friends, nor you knew exactly what were your fathers jobs. It was a secret and apparently, to keep you safe, you were better kept in the shadows of unknown. So, many times you wondered who actually Jackson was. You had a horrible, ugly and deep crush on him, not really undermined by any real facts or actions. You just did and that was it.

That’s why the idea of him coming tonight gave you exciting chills. You knew each other for two years now, your father sometimes bringing him home and when he had to urgently leave, he would make him watch out for your young fifteen-year-old self, as if you would do something worse than reading a book and just wander around the massive house all by yourself.

Without much thinking, you realised you were putting on pyjamas and get ready to sleep. It was such a mechanic way… And you also heard the girls leaving the house.

Sighing, you sat on the edge of your bed and waited till your father would come home and then wait till he suddenly had to leave, having Jackson watch out for you again.

You never really knew why was your father having you watched when you were seventeen now. All the teenagers were independent and responsible at this age and here you were being spoiled as a brat, not knowing what your father’s job was, being watched by the most handsome man you’ve ever laid eyes on. It wasn’t like you saw many men either. You didn’t go out into the wild Hong Kong much, and even if you did, you had to be escorted.

Good for you that you always preferred jeans and goodies, this way nobody could tell your family was wealthy rich.

You didn’t realise you fell asleep until a soft knock awakened you, your father’s gentle eyes right in front of your sleepy face.

“Honey,” he hummed his voice deep. You sensed another figure tentatively standing in the doorway. Your heart jumped. “I have to leave urgently but don’t worry - Jackson will be here if anything happens.”

You never knew what was that “anything” that could happen but it was obvious your father had a very clear idea, though he wouldn’t share that, of course.

You nodded, running your hands over your face. “Alright, take care, daddy. When will you be home?”

He smiled and removed some hair from your forehead. “Hopefully by morning, but I cannot promise anything now.”

You knew that one sentence well, too.

“Alright. See you later and be careful.”

“Always,” he said and then the only thing that was left behind him was a strong smell of cologne that was so typical for men in their 40s and 50s.

Jackson didn’t smell like that. He smelled… Enchanting. It was such a pleasurable mix of cologne on a young skin, some peppermint and this specific, unique smell you couldn’t quite put your finger on. It was herbal, which was the only sure thing.

When you slowly rose from your position, your father was gone and Jackson was in your room, still standing at the doorway. His dark hair was tousled sexily, as if he had someone make it that way. His light brown shirt was of a thin textile, you could tell right away. The black jeans couldn’t hang low on his waist even if they wanted to as the strong, big thigh muscles prevented the textile to move any further down.

Finally, you met his eyes. “Hey,” you whispered.

“Hey,” he rasped back.

He moved slowly to you, not losing the eye contact for a split second. Once he stood close enough to your knees that were connected politely as you were sitting, he said: “Happy birthday.”

A gentle smile pulled at your lips, averting your eyes the only way to show your genuine gratitude. You pressed your lips together. “Thank you.” You took a deep breath, standing up to be closer to him.

He gave you the gentlest of smiles when his warm, veiny hand reached for your left cheek, letting the back of his fingers brush against the flushed skin. “You slept tight. You have these lines on your cheek. So cute,” he laughed quietly, your heart painfully jumping at the sound.

Your smile widened. “Do you think tonight is the night?” You came closer, your hand touching his chest.

Jackson’s smile didn’t falter but the sigh escaping his lips said it all.

Before he could say anything, you stepped back and walked around him, heading for your desk.

You’ve been waiting for a while now for it to happen and it might have been extremely immature but the pressure for you was too big to handle. You wanted it to happen so badly. You wanted it to be finally true. You wanted Jackson to finally do something about it.

It was then when you felt his hands sneak around your waist and turn you around. Your body reacted immediately, fire shooting up your insides almost painfully.

He pressed his forehead to yours. “Not tonight. I can’t.”

“Isn’t it me who is supposed to say that?” you asked quietly, trying to suppress the frustration.

He moved his chin forward, his lips millimetres from yours. “Not until you’re legal for me.”

That simple statement made your knees go weak. You tried to kiss him, but backed away leaving you hanging. You kept your stare on him before his eyes travelled downwards to your cleavage. It wouldn’t make you budge. You wanted him to look. He grabbed your waist gently again and turned you around, pressing his face into your neck.

It made you take in sharply a breath, closing your eyes and feeling his fingers at the hem of your pyjama shirt. “You put this on the wrong way,” he said, pulling at the hem. Oh.

You snapped your eyes opened just to see that he was right. Your shirt was inside-out. So that was the reason he was eyeing your front so openly!

“Let’s change that,” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear.

Ugh. If he did not want to do anything with you tonight, why did he have to tease you like this? Involuntarily, your back arched against his front as his hands were now on the bare skin of your waist.

Gulping loudly, you felt the t-shirt being lifted up, cold air giving chills to your hot skin.

However, he would not budge. It was your crazy young mind that was blindly believing his mischievous, tricky actions. He stopped right away, smirking and playfully pinching your skin, making you yelp. “Change it,” he mumbled, stepping back away from you. “I’ll be downstairs. You want warm milk before bed as usual?” he asked as he was making his way out.

Dumbfounded, you stared in his direction, your short hair falling into your eyes. “Erm, yeah, please.”

He winked at you and left the room, whistling on his way down the stairs.

  The next year it was an understatement that you were going crazy. The high expectations of the cold December night of your eighteenth birthday were overflowing. However, this year your birthday was already different because it was snowing heavily, creating the perfect mood for the upcoming Christmas holidays.

Cosy night. That was what you would think of all day as you were wandering alone in the big house. This time, your father seemed to stay also. You were disappointed that Jackson would not show up for your special night to watch out for you. Or so it seemed.

Just two hours into the late evening and your father received an urgent call. He left right away, calling Jackson on his way out to come and watch out for you.

You downed a glass of cold water and rushed upstairs, your heart beating irregularly.

Will he finally allow you to be his? Are you grown enough for him?

Jackson was 26 which was a massive age gap - you were aware of this. At some point you would try to stop thinking about him and get some sobriety but it was to no avail.

How could it? When nobody was around, you two would bake cookies, dance to Christmas songs, cuddle and hug, take care of each other, feed each other, play hide and seek… Sometimes you would fall asleep next to each other, Jackson’s hands on your naked skin covering your waist. That was the furthest he would ever touch you, the furthest he’d let himself go with you.

If your father would still not be home by early morning, he would give your forehead a gentle kiss and wait for you to wake up.

Unless you were already up before him.

Then you would slowly, ever so gently trace the line of his lips, sensing their softness, dryness. You would analyse each and every detail of his features, how his eyelashes fluttered when he was dreaming and how he looked peaceful when no dreams were tiring his mind. You would notice how deep and regular his breathing was and how he would sometimes end up snoring. It was annoying but you couldn’t be mad or frustrated. You were happy to see him resting. You still didn’t know what his actual job was for your father. Sometimes he would have some scratches on his face which scared you, but you would make sure to give it a little kiss, hoping it would heal soon.

Your trace of thoughts was interrupted with the doors closing downstairs. You jumped up from your bed and lounged for the mirror, checking your already flushed cheeks. At least your hair was behaving for once. You heard steps and someone walking upstairs. They were not hurried, but rather balanced steps. You knew them so well.

He surprised you with tiny gifts that you could cover up easily in case your father would ask about them – not like he ever asked though. Your biggest, most valued present was Jackson’s presence itself. It was his attention to you that was the most rewarding. His eyes following you around the house, how you would chew excitedly on the delicious cake he brought. How you would do a little toast with the bubbly champagne and the taste would make you pull a sour face. He laughed loudly at you, saying: “Welcome to the adult land. It isn’t only champagne that is sour in your life anymore.”

You danced as well. First to some pop songs, and later to slow ones in which he could show his true gentleman potentials when he grabbed your hand gently, pulling you to his front, his hand not leaving the middle of your back. Biting you lip, you squirmed in his arms to make his hand fall lower, obviously anticipating more from him.

He smirked, knowing full well what your cheeky intentions were. But you had to wait for a bit later.

He twirled you, dipped you, and as you bended your head backwards to enjoy the moment, he gave your neck a sweet kiss, letting his lips linger for a few heartbeats.

When the last song was finished, you naturally headed upstairs to your room, turning off all the lights downstairs. Hands intertwined, swinging in the air between you, you were dizzy with emotions for him. Closing the door behind him, you didn’t let him escape anymore as you caged him in and stepped on your tippy-toes, putting your hands on his shoulders to kiss him on the lips like you wished for years now. You never kissed before.

“I’m eighteen now,” you mumbled, opening your eyes slowly. “I am legal for you now.”

He didn’t smile. Serious face was all he could give you for an answer as if to scold you for always wanting to be irresponsible. Seeing your shiny eyes, his features softened up and he took your face in his palms, brushing your hair behind your ear. It tickled. “You are right,” he rasped, his voice husky and deep. Oh my.

He kissed you, letting himself finally go.

It was the next day that you were stolen. It was fast and you had barely any chance to react when you felt a thick, heavy hand land on your mouth before the man was dragging you out backwards. Your first, very first thought, was that it was Jackson and that he might be just playing jokes with you. However, you knew he wouldn’t be that harsh and rude with you and, mostly, he would never even try to scare you in such an ugly way.

Just as you prepared to attack the kidnapper with your elbow, you received a strong blow into your head, making you lose consciousness.

Afterwards, your life became a hell hole. Nothing was the same, neither were you. You were waiting for Jackson or your father to come and save you, but they never came.

“Do you know why are you here, young lady?” asked one of the guys that stole you.

You didn’t but you wouldn’t communicate with them.

“Your father is a liar, a fraud. He is already on the list of the international police.”

Those words scared you. He must have not talked about your father - that was impossible. It all had to be a misunderstanding, a complete nonsense. These things happened only in films or shows, but not in your life.

Sure, you lived in a mansion - you could be a princess if that was what you wished for. And yet, all you could think about was Jackson and how you two could lead a simple, peaceful life. Everyday people with everyday issues.

Not like now. Specific people with very specific issues.

You were crying without realising it as the man continued his monologue in a heavy foreign accent you couldn’t pinpoint. “He exchanged you for his freedom, darling. He has no interest in you whatsoever so you might as well give this silence up and tell me what he was up to in the last two months.”

So this was why your father never told you a thing about his work. To keep you safe. And then, here you were, held hostage. At least the apartment was nice and nobody even touched you ever since, nor anyone tried to do anything ugly.

“Jaebeom.” A tall young man came into the room, wearing a suit. You haven’t seen him yet. He had a kind face, you thought to yourself. Or so it seemed through your blurry vision. “It’s the boss. He wants to meet her.”

Jaebeom shot you a glare before he abruptly stood up, making his way out. “Watch out for her. She might be sneaky for all I know,” he grumbled and slammed the door shut. Silence fell over the otherwise empty room.

“I’m Yugyeom,” said the tall guy, giving you a little wave. “I like computers.”

You blinked a few times, nodding. The tiredness was quickly catching up on you. “Hi Yugyeom,” you said politely. “Maybe you can be so kind and tell me why am I here.”

“It’s your dad. He’s a naughty guy.”

It absolutely should have not but it made you chuckle quietly. Or you were just desperate. “Nice. See, I didn’t even know about that.”

“It wasn’t a lie what the team leader said,” continued Yugyeom, sitting down on the chair that was previously occupied by Jaebeom. So he was the team leader. “Your father exchanged you for his own freedom.”

“So that’s why you’re holding me here? Cause he was selfish?”

“Not quite...” he trailed off, thinking for a minute. “He was kidnapped by his own mafia gang for having debts. We saved you from the gang that stole you.”

“What?” you shouted suddenly, your voice breaking. Yugyeom jumped at the strong vocals. “It wasn’t you who kidnapped me? Oh my god.”

“We are a secret agency and we work for the state of Korea. Your father was one of the leading secret agents but he has been suspicious for quite a long time now. Finally, we were able to trace his dirty business. Unfortunately, you’re involved, too,” he added quickly, looking at you cautiously. “I suggest you to confess quickly before it will get out of control.”

Your mouth was hanging open. You were feeling the dryness in your throat. “Ehm, do you think I can get a glass of water, please?”

“Sure,” said Yugyeom without hesitation, standing up.

Just in that moment the doors opened harshly, and in it a tall man with a slim, long face was standing. He had a serious look on his face. “No, you cannot until you spit out the truth.”

Yugyeom fidgeted with his hands, looking uneasy.

“I don’t know anything,” you whimpered, your voice pleading. “My father refused to tell me anything. He has a complice that is all I know.”

“Who is it?” asked the tall guy, his voice dark. Chills ran down your back.

You went silent here for a second. The truth was, you wanted to cry from the horrible pain in your heart. Jackson was also involved with your father. He didn’t even save you when they kidnapped you. He must have been a liar, too. And you, foolishly, fell for him, gave yourself to him.

But then why was he being so kind and gentle to you the entire time? Why was he respecting you so much when eventually he would stab you in your back anyway?

You hated yourself. You were embarrassed about the last night you spent with him. Despite your heart arguing with your mind that it was the best thing you could do and that you were truly at your happiest whilst being with him, surrounded by him, your brain held a strong hand above your reckless heart in a strong disapproval.

You sighed, not meeting the man’s eyes. “Jackson. His name is Jackson. I’m not sure about his surname but he isn’t very tall, he is muscly and he doesn’t like warm weather.”

Silence fell over the room. Finally, the tall man entered the room and walked to you before he crouched down so he could look into your face. “Jackson?”

Nodding, you hastily met his dark eyes.

“Mark, I don’t think she is talking about the same person,” said Jaebeom from the doorstep. He gave you a strict gaze. “It must be a different Jackson.”

“I don’t care,” replied silently Mark, looking at you the whole time as he was speaking. “I need answers and I need them now. Yugyeom!” he shouted, making the poor boy jump. “Find all the information on Jackson from the B team. And then find this Jackson dude who doesn’t like warm weather,” he smirked at you before standing up. “Bring her to the headquarters,” he said, turning and walking to the exit. “I’ll have another chat with her in a nicer environment.”

You frowned worriedly when Jaebeom came closer to you, removing your hands from the handcuffs attached to the radiator. “You are lucky to be treated this way,” he started. “If it would be up to me, I wouldn’t have any mercy.”

“Why do you even hate me,” you spat, frustrated and done with his disgusting behaviour. “You didn’t tell me why I’m here, you just keep asking me things I have no clue about and I literally told you everything I know – nothing.”

Jaebeom set his eyes on you, as if analysing. He was silent for a moment, before saying: “Well this is life, princess. Deal with it.”

You scoffed at the stupid nickname, anger boiling inside of you. Within an hour you were escorted through half of Hong Kong to a district you’ve never set your foot to before. You only heard scary stories related to it but that still didn’t ease your excitement and curiosity about this place.

“Where are we going?” you asked a man sitting next to you.

He looked at you, not quite bothered. “Don’t ask.”

“Bam, you don’t need to be harsh to her.”

You looked at the tall guy, Yugyeom, giving him a thankful smile for standing up for you.

When you arrived, you were escorted to a big fancy office where the Mark dude was already sitting in his leather chair, looking out the massive glass wall at the foggy skyline of Hong Kong

“So, you state that you don’t know anything,” he started without any notice.

“Yes,” you replied boldly.

That made him turn in his chair, his face smiley and cheeky. Well that was surprising. What was he smiling about?

“Then I have an idea. It is better for you to cooperate. That is, unless you’re not innocent as you make yourself out to be.”

You gulped and after a minute of hesitation, you nodded.

“Here’s my plan,” said Mark and ushered you towards him, whispering something you would have least expected.

  The upcoming two years have been a whirlwind of emotions. These emotions were too strong for your gentle self to bear. It was all too real, too hurtful and yet, at the end of the day when you would pass out of exhaustion into your freshly made bed, you would feel the strongest sense of accomplishments.

The trainings were hard. They would not let you cry for even a second. There was no room for feelings. As much as you wished to cry about your father becoming such a fraud and a liar who betrayed his own daughter to sell her off for his own freedom was making you feel nauseous and disgusting.

Those nails that looked so much like your father’s? You despised them.

The shape of your eyes? You couldn’t stand them.

That handsome smile of his that was beautifully transformed to a soft, feminine one on your face was one of the reasons why you wouldn’t even bother to raise the corners of your mouth.

Maybe your sudden talent in athleticism was the only thing that could pass as acceptable from things you inherited from your father. But otherwise...

That was it.

And then there was ... him.

Him, who you didn’t want to think of anymore. Him, who still made you weak in many ways, in many places. Him, who didn’t bother to come back to save you because he was too busy to protect your lying father.

Him, whom you loved so dearly. Him, who made you feel loved, beautiful and eternal.

Him, for whom you would give up your own life, him, whom was the kindest man, the most caring, the most wonderful and the most superlative worthy man.

Him, whom you hated so feverishly, it was making you feel dizzy.

---

“Hey, leader.”

Jaebeom was busy tracking a weirdo who kept crashing the servers of the police security cameras when he raised his head from the screen to see tall Yugyeom wave at him through the entire office.

It was alright. Other 100 agents who were working in the department were used to this kind of behaviour, so nobody paid any attention. Nor they did when the leader stood up, adjusted his elegant blazer (he was attending a party afterwards) and walked through the entire room to the PC specialist to see what was so important, that the leader himself had to walk to him.

“Look,” Yugyeom pointed a long, thin finger at the right-side screen.

Jaebeom frowned as he focused his piercing gaze on the screen. It was Jackson. “What is he doing here? I thought agent Wang was overseas.”

“He is done with another mission,” replied Yugyeom as he typed up some codes to the left-side screen. “He is attending a meeting with Mark now. There is unfinished business regarding Y/N’s father.”

“Shit,” sighed Jaebeom and lowered his head, to make the conversation more private. “I thought that bastard was taken care of.”

Yugyeom turned his head ever so slightly, his focus on the leader’s sharp jaw. It was never a good sign when the leaser pushed out his chin. “Well, he wasn’t. He exchanged the girl for his freedom, remember?”

“Alright,” Jaebeom straightened up to his full length, towering over the young boy. “Tell Mark I’m attending the meeting too. I have to talk to Jackson anyway.”

“What about Y/N?”

“What about her?”

“Aren’t we going to tell her he is here in the city?”

Jaebeom looked confused. “Why should we?”

“Because she thinks he is the bad guy.”

The leader smirked, his face twisted in a bitter smile. “Who cares? It’s not like she loves him or something. He doesn’t care about her anyway, why make it more complicated?”

Yugyeom didn’t respond. How was he supposed to tell the leader that it was more than a crush for her, that Jackson was her everything she knew before her life became such a mess.

“You’re right,” he heard himself say, rather automatically. “They will never see each other again.”

“I just wonder what Mark has to do with him in secret that he didn’t notify us about his arrival.”

“All I know is that another team is taking care of some douches in Hong Kong so they are sending him as the main Cantonese representative. After all Jackson truly is a gem in our agency. Not many people have his charms or language skills.”

“That’s true, but Jackson is still part of my team. I thought I am supposed to know where and what my agents are doing. Who else is going to bear responsibility?”

“Got some news, bros.” Agent Bambam, who was walking by Yugyeom’s table, threw the latest newspapers down on the table, the main headline saying “Tax Evasion more Severe”. “It’s happening again,” laughed Bam.

“Aren’t you supposed to be out in the terrain by now? What are you still doing here? Agent Park is expecting you there!” exclaimed Jaebeom strictly.

Bam laughed, clapping his hands. “Team leaderrrrr, chill! That was yesterday, you forgot already?”

“Agent Im is busy with dates, aren’t I right?” Agent Park, or just Jinyoung, appeared from the other side of the table and patted the dissatisfied leader on the back. “You chose a nice blazer for this evening, Jaebeom. She will be pleased. Much better than that fluffy jacket that caused your date immediate allergic reactions last time.”

Jaebeom sighed and massaged his eyes. “How come you all have so much free time on your hands?” he shouted suddenly, making everyone jump. “Get back to your places, now!”

Jinyoung smirked and gave one last pat to Jaebeom’s shoulder before he ventured off with others, leaving poor Yugyeom drained and worried.

“Tell Mark I’m coming,” murmured Jaebeom, not looking at Yugyeom. “And you’re coming with me.”

“Why?” peeped Yugyeom, complete dread written over his face.

Jaebeom frowned in astonishment. “You are my only normal agent here. I can’t count on those ducks,” he replied looking at the others who were silently watching them, smirks under their noses.

--

Marks office was still the same even after two years: minimalistic and with a breathtaking view of Hong Kong’s landscapes.

Jackson was happy to be back in his hometown after countless of missions in China and North Korea. He even forgot that Hong Kong’s air had its own smell.

“How do you see it so far?” asked Mark, sitting in his chair, looking out the window on the slow sundown. “Do you think it will be done by this month?”

“This month?” asked Jackson, surprised. “It’s December.”

Mark let out a breathy laugh, slowly turning in his chair to face his friend. “Oh, I had absolutely no idea it was December. Thank you for telling me.”

Jackson looked down at his intertwined hands. He had some bloody scratches on them, but they were pretty much healed by now. “Sorry I-“

“It’s her birthday, I know,” said Mark matter-of-factly.

Jackson snapped his head up, his face in utter horror. “Whose?”

“C’mon, man, don’t act like an innocent, ignorant boy. I know everything.”

“I’m lost,” said Jackson, still holding up his guard.

“She would probably kill you if she saw you now though,” laughed Mark as if nothing. “She is a little fierce tiger.”

“Why would you talk about her like that?”

“So you do know who I am talking about!” clapped his hands Mark and looked utmost pleased.

Jackson sighed, already tired of the conversation. “What was it you wanted to talk with me about?”

“You possibly cannot kill her father in the month of her birth, right? That would be too much to bear even for me.”

“Yeah, even for you, you emotionless prick,” spitted Jackson and ran his hands over his dark hair. “I can’t believe I’m having this talk with you! Just get to the point so I can get out.”

“Before she discovers you here?”

“Why would she even be in this damn building!” shouted Jackson, genuinely confused and stood up abruptly to walk around the big office.

Mark observed his friend for a little bit before answering. “You two are so alike and yet so different.”

“I refuse to take part in this mission.”

“But it will be beneficial for your position.”

“I don’t care about my position.”

For once, finally, Mark became speechless. He knew Jackson as the back of his hand – hardworking, willing to give up everything just so he could go far in his job, just so he could protect his country from all the evil that was in the streets. This was nothing like that Jackson. He would never refuse to do something for better good. “So a woman can have such a strong influence over a man. Damn, I thought it’s just some poetic bullshit.”

“Mark,” said Jackson, his voice low and threatening. “Stop it.”

“Look at yourself. What are you doing?”

“I am trying to keep myself sane.”

Mark stood up and walked towards fuming Jackson, bending his knees so he could see better the young man’s face. “If you love her, why don’t you face her?”

“You said yourself she would kill me in an instant.”

Mark laughed, straightening up. “I bet she would. But that is not the case.” He paused for a seconds to think over his thoughts. “She loves you. I know how much she suffered after we saved her.”

Jackson gritted his teeth, not wanting to talk about that episode he missed out on. He still couldn’t believe he was not there to save her just in time, right on her eighteenth birthday.

“I have a plan though,” continued Mark. “For it, we will need your team leader to appear. And, of course, I won’t let you kill the man in this month. Nor later. I just need you to be exactly where I need you to be in order for everything to work out well.”

In that moment, there was a knock on the door and Jaebeom stepped in confidently, followed by a not so confident Yugyeom.

“Mark, what the hell?” started Jaebeom, throwing his hands up in the air before he walked to Jackson to hug him. “Are you alright?” he asked him and then gave him the tightest of hugs.

“I’m fine,” Jackson muttered, pleased to see Jaebeom after such a long time.

Mark took a step back and smiled at the team. He made sure to wave brightly at Yugyeom, too. The boy was a talented hacker.

--

“You came to kill me?” asked Jackson, surprised. That was not written in the script.

You gritted your teeth, wanting to beat him up to a pulp. So many emotions were swirling inside of you, so many memories, so many old touches re-emerged on your skin, giving you goosebumps. “I won’t have mercy just like you had zero mercy with me!”

“Shh, stop shouting,” whispered Jackson and held his palm to your mouth.

You bit it strongly, making him yelp in surprise. He stepped back a few steps, looking alarmed when he suddenly saw you holding a dagger in your right hand. Aimed... right at him.

“Y/N,” he murmured, worry in his eyes.

“You will listen to me!” you shouted. Your in-ear was blowing up with Jaebeom’s and Yugyeom’s instructions but you wouldn’t care. You needed to finish this business, so you could have your peace of mind. “I loved you. I cared for you so much. I knew nothing about the world because you were my only world, my only dream I had! And you ruined it.”

“Wait, Y/N, let me explain. I loved you. Hell, I still love you so much! I waited for you for so long...”

Little tears were pricking at your deadly eyes; they were too hot for the cold skin covering your cheeks. Before you could say anything more, something big blew up not that far away from you two. Jackson sprung out to cover your shocked body, making both of you fall heavily on the floor.

His face was too close for you to not like it and you hated it. He was searching your eyes, making sure you weren’t hurt.

But you were crying. Shaking. Tired and scared and confused because he was finally there and yet you wanted to push him away. He wouldn’t let you though. He quickly stood up and helped you stand, pulling you towards the fire exit. “You’ve got to get out of here, you hear me? Go away, go back to Jaebeom.”

You didn’t have time to be surprised at how he knew all that information, you just went with it. “You are coming too, right?” you breathed, swallowing the painful lump in your throat. “Please, don’t leave me, Jackson.”

He turned around to shoot you a look you couldn’t quite define. It was full of worry, uncertainty and sadness. “I have to finish this mission.”

“But it is my mission and I don’t want you to participate in it.”

He stopped to look you properly in your eyes. Your mission? How exactly was this your mission, he wanted to ask.

The alarms went off above your heads. It didn’t budge Jackson though. He cupped your cheeks ever so gently, still treating you like a porcelain doll. “I will come back. And we will talk everything out, you hear me? I will find you and I swear to God, I will not let you go for a second,” he breathed, inching closer to your bloody lips. “I will not let you go.”

You leaned in. It was so inappropriate and so stupidly film-like, but you couldn’t help your feelings.

God, he was your everything.

Just before his cut lips could finally, finally touch yours, another bomb went off, sending pieces of bricks your way. You both just managed to dive but it was not quick enough. Your face got a deep, ugly and very painful cut just under your left eye, sending tiny daggers into your head. You screamed from pain, immediately reaching out to cover your face, hoping it would ease the pain.

Jackson grabbed your hands, pushing them aside to see. His big eyes scanned the cut. You felt the warm blood trailing down your cheek. It looked like you cried blood.

“Wait, don’t move,” said Jackson sternly touching gently the skin around the cut. Eventually, he looked into your eyes and sighed. “Let’s get out of here. Right now.”

Just then you noticed Jackson also had an in-ear, getting instructions. You both must have been connected to Jaebeom as he was the leader of this mission. But you didn’t understand why you didn’t know about Jackson’s participation in this.

He held your hand tightly, leading you out.

“Y/N if you don’t get out of there this instant, I swear to god I’ll make sure you will never get employed in your whole goddamned life!” shouted Jaebeom. “Yugyeom, if you ever recommend this loser of an agent again, I’ll kick you out too!” you heard in the background.

Yeah, do it, you thought to yourself. You had Jackson now. You didn’t need anything at all in this world. Your everything was already there-

You finally reached the exit to the outside world. Jackson pushed you ahead of him. Behind the doors would be the secret service team that was supposed to save both of you stuck in the building. You turned quickly to see Jackson’s face but was horrified when you saw a man behind him. He was tattooed and tall and had a mask and he was holding a long, sharp knife aimed ... right at Jackson.

No. No. Nobody was allowed to aim a weapon at Jackson, only you were.

Before you realised what you were doing, you smashed Jackson aside, who could only see the horror in your eyes, confused. Thanks to your quick reflexes, you smashed the knife out of the man’s hand, his painful wail the only sound in the alarm-filled building.

“NO! Y/N get out!” shouted Jackson.

The man gave you a strong slap, making your head snap to the left. Your hair got stuck in the blood. You felt yourself being dragged out. “Wait,” you murmured, seeing stars from the blow. “Jackson.”

Jackson received several blows into his back as he was shielding your body, trying to get you out of the building. Mark would save you, he knew it.

He reached for the door, opening it and tried to run with you, but your head was spinning and hanging down, falling into a painful daze. His heart clenched tightly, a sudden aggressive rage taking over his emotions. Agents ran to get you and Jackson was already turning to fight the intruder when he spotted the same dagger in his hand. That ass retrieved it again.

Jackson, still in pain from the previous blows into his back, had slowed reflexes despite him clenching his teeth to fight the numbness. One cut, two cuts, three cuts. Jackson smashed the guy into the wall and hit his face with fists while using martial arts to paralyse him.

“Quickly, go help him, I’ve got her now,” you heard from afar as a strange pair of hands were taking you into the nearby van. Alarms could be still heard in the background, but you had your own alarms in your head, your body heavy. It felt like there was an earthquake.

“Where is Jackson,” you murmured, your eyes closed.

“Agent Rick and agent Tom, go to your positions immediately! Help Agent Wang now! Team 5, prepare the guns!”

The doors on the van suddenly closed and all the sound was pushed out. Now it was just ringing in your head. Opening your eyes, you saw blurry Youngjae who was focusing on your arm. You felt a little sting. By the time you fell asleep, you managed to frown from the pain.

--

Jackson didn’t show up the next year.

He was lying in the hospital as he almost got killed in that fight.

You were not allowed to see him and out of safety reasons, you were taken to the main headquarters in Seoul to be sure you wouldn’t go see him.

“He is in a horrible state, Y/N,” said Yugyeom, not looking your way as he was searching some information on the internet in the office. “It’s for the better.”

You wanted to pull your hair out. You cried many nights. You lied awake many sleepless nights. There was no more fire behind your trainings either. Those, who hurt Jackson, got killed and taken care of thanks to Mark.

Oh, Mark. Right. “You know, he was actually never the bad guy,” he told you one day when he decided you were strong enough to withstand the whole truth. “The entire time, he was spying on your father as he was on our list of suspicious businessmen for quite some time. Jackson never mentioned you, though, which is strange. In his reports, he didn’t state there was any daughter. He only focused on the updates about your father’s whereabouts.”

This meant Jackson was doing everything for the state security and, along the way; he was trying to protect you as well. He fell in love with you deeply and very unexpectedly.

Your heart was heavy once again. You blamed Jackson for so many things and even treated him badly before he was shot and taken to the hospital, while all he was trying to do was to save you. If your loser-self wouldn’t pass out from a single blow, no doubt you would throw yourself in front of the bullet.

But now, the only thing left for you was to pray and hope Jackson would recover soon so you could see him. So you could finally tell him you loved him.

  It was December, your birthday to be exact, when Mark said: “You should stop worrying about him for now,” he patted your shoulder as he spotted the big, dark bags under your blood-shot eyes exactly. “He is the strongest man I ever met – and trust me, I did have the pleasure to meet some cool dudes.”

It didn’t help you that much but you managed to lift the corners of your mouth nonetheless. It still warmed your heart that he was trying to cheer you up on your birthday.

“That’s my girl,” smiled Mark at the sight of your little smile. Once Mark left, Yugyeom came by your desk as he always did to check up on you, to listen to you and, to wish you a happy birthday.

Yugyeom was what the world defined as a real friend. Previously, you had fake friends only and then Jackson. To have Yugyeom was such a breath of fresh air, such a relief and you were thankful for his constant care for you although he didn’t have to do any of it.

“What will you do once he returns?” quipped Yugyeom, sitting down in the empty chair after he cheered on you and surprised you with a little birthday cupcake.

You hummed thinking, imagining, and your heart jumping. “Say hi.”

Yugyeom almost choked on his saliva as he was trying to hold back his laughter. “That sounds fun!”

“Why, what should I do?” you asked, confused at his funny reaction.

Yugyeom looked at you, gently shaking his head. He was always astonished the way you were thinking – so simply and so naively. “I meant once when you guys warm up to each other,” he said eventually, not answering your question.

He knew exactly how you two were feeling about each other. It was one thing when you poured your heart out to him while Jackson was not around and another thing was for Yugyeom to witness with his own two eyes that day when it all happened. When he saw yours and Jackson’s bodies running out of the building, you half-unconscious and Jackson protecting you with his own body before giving you to the running agents... And then the blows he received...

Yugyeom had a hard time himself to sleep at night. Jackson was dear to his heart, always one of the only agents who would believe in Yugyeom’s ability as a professional hacker, always encouraging, always supporting.

“No, Yugyeom, you don’t get it,” said Jackson once, shaking his hand wildly to prove his point, “I’m your biggest fan.”

Yugyeom would hardly survive the idea that Jackson would not make it out of his recovery.

You pursed your lips, still trying to think of some good words to utter. “Talk like before all the events happened.”

“I see,” nodded Yugyeom thoughtfully, understanding he would not get more information from you.

“Are you trying to get something specific out of me? Just ask straight-forwardly.”

“Nope, actually, it’s better not to know,” he said quickly, blush creeping into his cheeks.

“Agent Kim!” Yugyeom almost fell off the chair at the sound of Jaebeom’s demanding voice echoing through the open office. “Where is the last week’s analysis of Burn’s Shop?!”

“Oh, shit. I’ve gotta go,” muttered Yugyeom, immediately getting up and sprinting over to his desk.

You smiled softly, shaking your head. Silly goose.

“Y/N!” shouted Jaebeom at you. Now it was your turn to jump. “Did you discuss the internal system shut down with agent Kim yet?!”

Oh my god, you thought to yourself, immediately collecting the papers that were necessary for the upcoming meeting. You forgot about it as later that day an official ceremony was happening to pay respect to the agents and to receive the certificates from the state organisation.

You rushed over to Yugyeom who sat down on top of his desk before you both started to go through the necessary data. By now you were a pro in this so you could finally feel important in your existence.

You were just in the middle of the discussion when you heard two colleagues that were passing by whispering excitedly that Jackson was back.

Yugyeom stopped mid-sentence, looking at you with big brown eyes of realisation.

Without any hesitation, you set down the papers you were holding tightly in your hands, setting off to a little sprint to catch up with the two ladies, stopping them. “Hey,” you breathed, trying to push down the passionate eagerness, “do you know where Jackson is?”

“He just passed by our office a few minutes ago,” they replied, blush still obvious from the encounter with him. Thanking them, you glanced at their name tag, seeing “Finance department” written under their names.

Feeling your heart beat heavily, you rushed to the finance department, desperately searching for his face. God, you would finally see his face. You couldn’t believe it.

As soon as you reached the first office of the department, you spoke even before opening the door. “Have you seen Jackson?”

“He just left to greet the IT team,” they replied, staring at your impatient face.

You ran down the corridor, passing by agents and officers, hoping to get a glimpse of the familiar face. You ended up passing Yugyeom again, by then breathless.

“He was here literally a few minutes ago,” started Yugyeom, reading your pleading face perfectly as usual. “He was asking about you. He went searching for you, but he has to be in the main hall in-“ he checked his wrist watch, “-now.”

Oh. So Jackson was going to be among the awarded agents. How could that not pass your mind? You were so busy thinking about when you will finally see his face that you didn’t even think about today’s ceremony. You even brought a pretty dress because it was a necessity for the occasion.

Your heart was thundering in your chest, the desperation making you give out dissatisfied grunts.

He was back. Jackson was back. He recovered. He came back and he wanted to see you. You.

Running down the hall, you made your way to the main entrance, knowing he would be there to greet all the important people of the state organisation. But you didn’t expect such a big crowd. Standing on your tiptoes, you tried to see his head in the massive wave of people but you were dragged into the main hall, where the banquet would take place later on.

Angry tears were prickling behind your eyes. You had only one wish and that was to finally see his face. You looked to your right where there was a massive terrace overlooking a beautiful garden. You turned again, tiptoeing, when... when you spotted him.

Your heart jumped painfully when you noticed he had his eyes already set on you, intently, and yet it seemed like they were screaming, too.

Emotions of love overtook your insides. You both tried to push your way to each other but you were unwillingly dragged to the side, just next to the glass wall. Out of frustration, you made your way out to the terrace, the cold air giving you a chance to finally catch your breath. You headed to the hidden corner where no eyes could see you just when somebody grabbed your arm hurriedly, turning you around, and their lips crashing to yours.

You saw Jackson’s closed eyes but you were melting already. His kiss was harsh and needy, walking you backwards to the concrete wall and caging you in, giving you zero chance of escape. Not like you would...

Pressing forward, you let out a desperate whimper as you brushed your fingers through his dark, gentle hair. Jackson inhaled through his nose, opening your mouth to devour you completely.

He was desperate just like you, if not even more. Waiting for you for years... First for you to grow into a suitable age, and then the kidnapping, then years of no contact to save you... until you found each other just to be separated again. He was more than done waiting, ready to give you his all.

You made out for a few minutes before you separated to catch your breath. Breathing heavily, drunk with emotions, you looked at him through lidded eyes, holding his face in your palms. “You are alive,” you whispered.

Jackson’s eyes were endearingly boring into yours, smiling. “I am alive.”

Feeling the burn behind your eyes, you pressed your swollen lips together. “I was so worried, Jackson. I thought you were not going to make it and then they wouldn’t let me even see you,” you rambled on quickly, “and I thought I was not going to survive the pressure, the uncertainty.”

“Shh,” he said, pressing his index finger to your lips, “don’t talk about it now. I am here and I am not going to leave your side, Y/N. Ever again.”

You sighed, closing your eyes for a moment. He nudged your nose with his, making you open your eyes again. “I love you,” you spilled.

There was a second of silence. Did he hear well or was it maybe some imagination? Was he still not recovered? Did you really just say that you... “I love you,” he heard himself respond right away, pressing a delicate peck to your lips. Then another one. And another one.

You giggled, his playfulness very familiar. “I don’t think I will let you go tonight,” you said seriously, stars in your eyes, “nor later. I don’t think I will be able to at all.”A high-pitched laugh left his mouth, your smile broadening at the sound of it. “That’s good news then, because I don’t plan on doing that either. We have so much to catch up on. And also,” he said, inching closer to your ear while his free hand wandered around your waist and lifted your shirt up a little bit, sending pleasurable shivers down your spine. “Happy birthday, my love.”

#got7 au #got7 fanfiction #got7 fanfic #got7 jackson #jackson wang fanfiction #got7 fluff #got7 spy #jackson wang one shot #got7 one shot #got7 imagine #got7 jackson imagine #jackson wang imagine #jackson wang drabble #got7 drabble #kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #kpop fluff #kpop au #kpop drabble #kpop scenario #kpop one shot #my writings

[talesofphantombandits]

Zero to Six ~ Chapter 2

Hey guys,                                 

So I want to say thank you, honestly I never thought this would blow up as much as it did. Must say am a little scared now 😂 because I feel like the rest of this is going to be terrible and I’ll disappoint y’all.

Am sorry this is short, and a little less four. Am terrible at writing it seems but let me know what you think and if you liked it. Also if you want to be on the tag list let me know 💙

Warnings: mild swearing, and some small talk about kinks. Nothing major.

Again sorry if this is disappointing 🙊 Happy Christmas guys 🎉💙

Gif credit to Hainesane

Tag list: @i-am-sarah , @whothefuckstolemykeds , @drowsyrrog , @culturefiendtrashqueen , @rogue-barnes-16–main-account​

_____________________________________________________________

“One is an ass.”

“Ah Four so lovely to hear from you, what happened? Two said that Six is dead?” I was still confused as everyone had left me in the dark to worry.

“Yeah, Six isn’t here anymore.” The sad tone I heard made my head spin.

“One chucked him over the side of a boat like he meant nothing.”

“You know how he is Four, that’s his rules.” I tried to sound as sympathetic as possible to not irk him further.

“I know where supposed to be these ghosts but that doesn’t change that fact that we’re still living, breathing human beings. One also said we weren’t a family.”

“Family means different things to different people, Ones a strange guy no doubt but you have to take him with a pinch of salt. You know what you signed up for when you joined, it’s shit but it’s just how it is we all knew that.” I really wanted to be positive but the situation was awkward.

“If it makes you feel better, I know the rest of the team feel like family as well.” I said at an attempted to lighten the mood.

“You’re Family too Zero.” He said in a quiet voice.

“That’s kind, but it doesn’t exactly feel like it when am stuck here behind the cameras, our only communication is through coms. I don’t think I’ve interacted with another person In years.” I laughed sadly.

“We’ll meet one day, we have to right.” He said seriously.

“What’s with all this serious business monkey boy? Am starting to miss the sassy comments.”

“And this is why am going to run your ass into the ground when we meet. I promise you now, am going to annoy the shit out of you and it’ll be so worth it because you won’t be able to turn me off like you do with coms.” He scoffed.

“You can try pretty boy but you’ll end up on your ass I swear. Anyway get some sleep Four, you need to be up bright and early to meet the new guy. I need to get on with this research for One.” I said with a tired sigh.

“Okay mum.” He said in a mocking tone.

“Is that one of your kinks four?”

“Wouldn’t you like to find out, maybe we can talk about it further when we meet.” I could tell he was smirking.

“Good night Zero, don’t forget to dream of me and my perfect body.”

I just scoffed and turned off coms.

I leaned back on my chair to stretched my back it clicked in a few places but made it feel a lot better, I’d give anything to be out in the field with the rest of the guys not only to feel closer to them but to be doing something more than stuck in a house all day staring at screens.

3 years ago I would have dreamed of no social interaction but now it was taking a toll on me, humans crave attention and I was starved of it.

Don’t get me wrong I love my job, hacking was what I was best at but hacking could also be done outside in the fresh beautiful air and sunshine. That’s why I started to develop some ways to hack while on the move.

I know there are possibilities already out there to do this already but these were to fit my needs and skills.

I wasn’t feeling very positive though about actually Getting out, One is a very stubborn man. He was very insistent on me staying hidden so I’d never actually ask.

I sat there for another Three hours doing some more research for the new mission when I decided that I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore. I walked to the bedroom stretching again while picking up my pyjamas and a towel. Then headed to the bathroom to take a nice warm shower to relax.

I then hopped into bed.

As soon as my head hit the pillow I was out of it.

I was startled awake by a loud knocking coming from the front door I looked at the clock on my bedside table to see it was 3:00 AM.

“What the hell.” I grumbled to myself.

I grabbed the gun from under my pillow and headed down the hall.

I waited a little to see if the person would just go away when I didn’t answer.

But then the knocking came again even louder this time.

“Zero open up, it’s me One.”

I cocked my head to the side confused, why the hell was One here I hadn’t seen him in person for a year.

I carefully walked to the door to peek through the peep hole to confirm it was indeed One.

I opened the door just enough that he could sneak in.

“You dumb ass what are you doing here?”

“Hey, nice gun is it new?” He just walked past me to the kitchen.

“I said what the hell are you doing here One?

“Can’t I just pop by and see my favourite ghost?” The fake hurt on his face made me scoff.

“You haven’t come to see me in a whole year. Plus you never show up without wanting something.”

“At least make me a drink.” He went to make himself comfortable on my couch.

I just rolled my eyes, I was use to Ones ass of an attitude now. “Yeah sure just make yourself at home.”

I passed him his rum and sat on the seat across from him.

“So what do you think of the team, you and Four seem to be getting on extremely well emphasis on extremely there. I was going to say it’s a good job your not on the field team or you’ll probably be sleeping together or annoying the hell out of the rest of us with your tension. But that’s going to change soon.”

“What do you mean that’s going to change soon?”

“That’s what you picked up on? Thought you’d take any chance to deny anything between you and Four.”

“One just tell me why the hell you’re here so I can go back to sleep.” I angrily sipped on my rum.

“Fine don’t get your panties all in a twist.” He put his glass down on the coffee table.

“I need you in the field.”

I nearly chocked on my drink. “Excuse me? Why now, why all of a sudden?”

“We need everyone this time, after loosing Six the stakes are higher. It’s going to take the full team.”

“But you have Seven now, who’s incredible by the way. I mean cheers to me I guess I did find him.”

“I know but this one is going to take you all, believe me I would rather keep you out but I have no choice.”

“What would I be doing?” I shifted in my seat, excited but nervous more about meeting the team rather than the mission itself.

“Going to a party in Vegas.” He downed the rest of his rum then got up to put the glass in the sink.

“Sounds hard.” I said sarcastically. “And my disguise?”

“Bartender. I want you to watch, to listen and learn.” He leaned up against the door to the kitchen.

“So just a normal day, fine I’ll do it. I really need to get out of this stuffy apartment anyway. Was a nice pick this time though.” I got up to put my own glass in the sink.

“Great I’ll send the details. But first we need to monitor someone else.” He started heading to the door.

“Also, when you and Four meet each other please try to keep yours hands off each other.”

Just like that he was gone, god knows when I’d see him again.

I just smiled to myself. “No promises.” I whispered as I locked the door and headed back to the bedroom, ready to catch the last 3 hours of sleep I had left.

This was definitely going to be interesting, in more ways than one.

Chapter Three

#ben hardy #ben hardy fanfiction #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy four #6 underground #6 underground billy #6 underground fanfic #billy #billy fanfiction #four #four fanfiction #6 underground four

[kuvvydraws]

Gabriel (Good Omens) x Reader

The Chicken That Finally Crossed The Fucking Road

Chapter 2

*     

*

     Having someone move in with you within a day was an adventure, and one you wouldn’t want to partake in ever again.

     The easy part was the talk with your landlady, and the woman was happy that you were no longer living on your own with how dangerous London was for young people like you, gullible and vulnerable; her words, not yours. Her husband, on the other hand, found heavily immoral that your roommate was a man and that you both were single, and he made sure his opinion was listened by the whole neighbourhood.

      One would say that dealing with the people responsible of your housing was the difficult part. It was a difficult part indeed, just not the only one.

     Dealing with Gabriel was a Whole Thing on its own.

     You know those old people that have a hard time coping with technology and new stuff and just complain when nothing goes their way? That was Gabriel. While eager to learn, he behaved like every object was invented yesterday and everyone in the world got together in a secret meeting to learn how to handle it just so hey could spite him. You were sure he believed all the blenders from all the kitchens in the world were out there to get him. At least he was polite about it.

     Having him moving in was a poltergeist experience. He had no problem with the flat’s layout, and you, expecting some snide comment from his rich ass about your minuscule place of residence, felt much more at ease. The issue with his wardrobe was a bit more pressing. He had nothing but the clothing he was wearing the day you two had met, and that was more like a Trojan costume for a thematic party than anything else. It did match his old fashioned aura, and reinforced that feeling you had about him not belonging to any era in history, but that was about it.

      “Oh, the wardrobe shall be no problem at all” he said pleasantly. The very next day, when you came from work, he had his closet filled with the most expensive, most comfortable outfits you had seen in your whole life. Bitch clearly had in his possession a money tree.

      He wanted, he had told you just after settling in, the whole commoner experience. If you translate that into poor dialect, it meant that you had to accompany him to get every piece of the top notch technology available at the market. He was slightly familiar with cell phones and tablets, but computers turned out to be far trickier for him.

      He said he desired to start from point zero and you had no idea, at first, about what that implied. After seeing him fumble with the keyboard of his shiny new smartphone, you concluded that the guy didn’t even know what YouTube was. You wished you’d had a camera at hand when you had showed him, because his expression was priceless.

     A puppy with a new squeaky toy wouldn’t had been more excited.

      He also had the tendency to call you ‘human’ or ‘mortal’ instead of your name. You found this to be hilarious. He would add some dumb adjectives in front of it and seriously, it was like watching a pair of too sweet teens figuring out nicknames fused in one big, clueless businessman. His favourite so far was calling you ‘tiny’. Kind of unfair, yet very fair at the same time, since the top of your head barely brushed his shoulder.

     Cohabitating with Gabriel was easy, unsurprisingly. The moment he had learnt how the vacuum and the mop worked, your stress about the house being indecent midweek flew out of the window. Gabriel found great pleasure in organizing things. You had agreed on a common budget for food too, instead of separating the shelves inside the fridge and he had classified all the groceries by alphabetical and nutritional order. Of course, to be functional, you two now had to cook together.

      Gabriel had obvious issues with food. It was clear that he did not enjoy eating. The cooking process was another talk altogether though. It implied following established steps, times and measurements, and he had even bought a colourful apron for, what he said, was the proper attitude and mind set for cooking.

      That sentence, coming from the mouth of a man that hadn’t known what a whisk was three minutes prior,  made you cry in laughter. *

     You were incredibly useful, Gabriel discovered. Not only willing to provide with all the bothersome necessities his body now had, but with living quarters and explanations about what happened around him.

      It had been a long time since Gabriel had had to stay on Earth for more than a few hours, and the world had evolved in ways he couldn’t always comprehend. Things were faster, noisier or more silent, everywhere he went was crowded with people and the air smelled weird, congested his nose and, in some occasions, when he was too close to the back of a car of bus, it irritated his eyes.

     He was still getting used to the body, to the sensations and nerves and strange inner reactions and noises it would make. Being so far from divinity had also taken a toll on him, and due the forced tiredness he had to lay down on a bed -his bed now- and sleep. He wasn’t sure he liked sleeping. He didn’t dislike it per se, but he was aware that his surrounding were not part the real world, and that time was a mockery. He would remember moments of his angelic existence, mostly, but also dreamed with new, made up, things. He wasn’t sure he was comfortable with that.

     He didn’t sleep every night, and would spent his time reading or watching videos. You had books all over the flat, as if a library had exploded in the centre of the room. Some were in English, some were not. Those fascinated Gabriel. He could guess the general intentions when in a conversation with someone no matter the language, but reading was another matter. You also had no preference about topics, and the novels, encyclopaedias, dictionaries and collections of poems would mixt with the astronomy, art and engineering books right under the pot of that thick leaved  plant you had growing near the windows. After thoroughly dusting the area, Gabriel found the mess didn’t bother him that much.

     The nights he did sleep were not always good. He would wake up covered in cold sweat, a scream choked inside his throat and his body painfully taut or trembling uncontrollably. He tried to be silent. As an Archangel, he feared nothing, and no stupid machination the human world would make him stutter. The pictures of Hell affected him differently though. So he kept quiet. He took a shower every time, scrubbing hard, and by the time he was done and on his way to rest on the ugly couch at the living room, the light of the kitchen would already be lit.

     You sat with him every time, at his left so you wouldn’t obstruct the view from the window, and handed him a mug with tea. He never looked at you, and you never spoke a word.

     Gabriel tried to keep his body strong, now more than ever. His lack of celestial influence was no excuse to grow soft, and he had created an exercise routine. He woke up at sunrise everyday and went for a run, and then followed some exercises before showering. You usually emerged from your room at that time, clad in pyjamas, shoved you feet in some ugly and ragged trainers Gabriel refused to even look at, put on a jacket and went to the coffee shop on the opposite side of the street to fetch some coffee. You always brought the same tea for yourself, claiming you had a delicate stomach at such an early time, but Gabriel’s beverage changed everyday. He was starting to pick some favourites.

     You went to work daily, too, and returned very late in the evening. Your shifts were scheduled oddly, and you spent the majority of the day out. Gabriel was social by nature, and, while his purpose on Earth was to learn, he had to do it from real experience, not only books. So he took his tablet -you had bought him a protector for it decorated with a pair of what humans thought were angel wings, and Gabriel didn’t now if to laugh or to cringe, although he thanked you nonetheless-, a notebook, some far too expensive pen and a book, and went outside to read or take annotations on particular behaviours.

     He was always home by the time you arrived, exhausted, from work. *

     You groaned, every step of the stair high as a mountain. You lived on the last floor, the fifth, in the building. You just climbed up to the first one. Life was a terrible thing. By the time you reached upstairs, you were panting like a congested fifteen-year old bulldog, and you bag-pack weighted a ton of bricks.

      You crossed the doorway, kicked your shoes to one side -Gabriel would had your head for it-, the bag to the other, and face planted on the couch, the armrest digging sharply in your stomach. Gabriel, sitting straight as a broomstick on the other side of the cushions yet looking incredibly comfortable at the same time, gave you a sideways glance before returning to his book briefly to dogear it. On his lap rested his faithful notebook.

      “I see you have returned. How was work today?”

      He was like a therapist at his hour. He let you ramble while going to close the door. It’s not like he could understand you, your face buried in the fabric as it was, you socked feet on the air. This time, you just grunted. It’s been a lot like that recently.

     “I’m in severe pain at this very moment” you whined, not daring to move a muscle “. And I’m hungry too.”

      Your arms were heavy, and so were your legs, like you had attached weights to them and then went to win a marathon. Existing was a bit too much right now; for some reason, the restaurant you worked at had gotten surprisingly popular in a very short time, and the clients wouldn’t top coming. You were stressed every second of it, now not having time to even joke or chat with your co-workers between servings. Everyone but the manager was jumpy, and grumpy and the bad mood in the atmosphere increased with each passing day. The cooks at the back would bark at you waiters for being two seconds too late, and today you had slipped with something -you swore it had been that damned child from table seven throwing a spoon full of ice-cream at your feet- and landed heavily on your wrist. You hadn’t twisted it by pure luck, but it still ached, and an ugly, throbbing, purplish mark had found its home in the area.

      You saw Gabriel’s white crocs pass in front of your face -the best fucking purchase you had convinced someone to make- and he handed you a kitchen towel with ice. He was a businessman in his own house too, dressed sharp and elegantly. A month after becoming roomies and you hadn’t seen him in pyjamas yet. You drew the line at some point though, and it was located at the exact time you had noticed he would wear formal shoes even inside. Getting him to discard his scarf and coat hadn’t been that hard.

      Gabriel claimed the crocs were the ugliest thing he had the disgrace to glaze upon. You had agreed wholeheartedly. They were too white and the creator had decided to sprinkle holographic glitter on them too.  They were positively horrid. And you had been dying to see Gabriel wear them.

      Poor Gabriel, bless his soul, had obliged. He had forced you to buy what he considered the most atrocious thing in the store besides his new shoes. It was socks. Fluffy, sprinkled with pancakes and the face of the Grinch -of all things to put with pancakes- all over and you had fell in love. You only put them inside the house, and Gabriel cringed every time he would mistakenly look at your feet now. For someone with Gabriel’s sense of style, your mere existence was abhorrent. It was not that your fashion inclinations were all over the place, it was that you had sold them for a chewed corn chip at the flea market on a Sunday afternoon. He had seen you in pyjamas, in teared pants, in shirts with corny messages and in those puke inducing socks, among other atrocities.

      Right now, bent over the sofa, you were wearing what Gabriel believed to be your best clothes. You had an oversized hoodie -you had thousands of those, Gabriel believed- from which neck protruded the white collar of a dress shirt, your previously pleaded pants, now wrinkled, still maintained the ironed fold somehow, but your socks showed now two holes, one each, at the front part. You would have to throw them out again. You destroyed a pair every two weeks and Gabriel was sure half of your income was sorely designated to acquire socks.

     He cleared his throat and you sent him your deadliest glare. Gabriel stood there, unaffected, hands comfortably resting in the pockets of his pants. On the crook of his elbow hung his apron. “It’s dinner time” he said “. Go change, we have soup tonight. I’ve bought onions, and eggs and bread.”

     You had told him about your mom’s recipe a week ago. Gabriel, a big hater of anything more solid that jelly, had discovered the metaphorical Garden of Wonders in soup. He loved soup. He locked eyes with you and made a show of putting his apron on. You grunted again and stood, heading tiredly to your room to change. You would shower after dinner.

     Cooking was methodical -Gabriel wasn’t very fond of physical contact and you always kept enough distance as not to make him uncomfortable- and an actual approach at conversation. You did get some commentary on anecdotes that happened today while Gabriel chopped veggies with a surgeon’s accuracy. He always pointed that he wanted to listen, learn about what people did with their dull lives and whatnot.

      Gabriel made sure to have time to listen to you. He never, ever, made you feel dumb for mispronouncing  a word and would always give you helpful tips with grammar. You appreciated it immensely. You would be reading, wouldn’t understand a term and he gladly explained it to you, or spelled a word you didn’t catch right from TV and, in short, let you ramble and corrected your grammar whenever you had a question about anything.

      You were so fucking grateful for having him.

      You weren’t anxious or self-conscious about your language skills around him. You didn’t have to be on guard 24/7 because of judgement and you didn’t have to worry about him laughing at you behind your back. He was far too good for that. Had he not been a snarky, rich bitch, you would’ve thought him an angel of sorts.

     Angel or not, you thought looking at him, he’s dumb as fuck.

     The aforementioned angel had just taken a huge bite out of a red onion and now his eyes were, quote-unquote, ‘leaking’. His face was getting very red.

     You ran to get him a glass of water. *

     Gabriel thought he would feel lonely here on Earth, or bored. He had a lot of labours up in Heaven, very important duties. He was sure Michael was now taking care of them, but he felt kind of bad for relying so much on her. Upstairs decision or not, Michael had her own duties too. He hoped Sandalphon was helping her.

     As an Archangel, he was basically the representative for the Higher Powers among the other, lesser angels. He was to assign protocols, check the security and make sure that everything in Heaven, from the upper spheres to the organization and distribution of newly arrived souls ran smoothly. He was very good at his job and took pride in its effectiveness.

     He had had to find new people to be around daily now, during your absence. Coffee shops and little restaurants were his usual spots to find a loner human willing to share a conversation, no matter the age or gender or whatever -Gabriel wasn’t very sure what gender was, but many humans seemed to believe it was a huge thing or something, and after some well aged people screamed at him for indecency and tried to call him out for his sins, which he did not have, he had decided that it was better to leave some topics untouched.

     He had not felt that necessity with you yet. You relied on him when you had doubts and random things to ask about anything and it made him feel so fucking appreciated it was unbelievable. From the simplest of questions regarding his day -you always made a point to ask him about his day, even if his routine was always the same- to you screaming his name so he would come ad watch a cool thing on a video or a show you thought he could be interested in.

     Half of the time, Gabriel didn’t know what you were talking about, and you would pause the video and explain the general context to him, which would cause a new landside  of questions and, maybe, three hours later, you would return to the original topic. That didn’t happen most of the time but it didn’t seem to bother either of you.

     Existence on Earth wasn’t as shabby as he would have thought it to be. 

     It was kind of... tolerable.

-----------

Chapter 1

#good omens #gabriel (good omens) #gabriel (good omens)/ reader #gabriel/reader #gabriel x reader #reader #the chicken that finally crossed the fucking road #chapter 2

[princesstreaclefanfic]

Chapter 24

I am in the process of adding a new section to my blog; a 'Recommendations' section. It's pretty much what it says it is, a section dedicated to the wonderful community of Fanfiction writers that surrounds us. Every time I find a story I like I will try to add it there for other people to find. Please go and have a look at it and give the authors there some love (and you might find a new favourite story).

Disclaimer - All recognisable characters belong to their original owners. I do not make a profit from writing this; I simply do it for my own amusement. No copyright infringement intended.

Chapter Twenty Four

Bella

I froze. "What?"

Edward repeated himself. "Tanya has a sister, Kate – and she's here to see me. She wants to know where Tanya is."

"Okay," I said slowly as I gathered my thoughts. What did she want? Would she hold me responsible? I didn't have the answer to these questions but we would find them. "We'll deal with this together."

Edward took my face in his hands. "Together." I was pleased he wasn't trying to 'protect me' – that we were doing this together. I wanted to take my place at his side, as his girlfriend, partner and equal.

After I had dressed in some pyjamas I had left at Edward's, we walked down the stairs and into his office.

I pulled my shoulders back and took a deep breath. I could do this. I would do this.

In the middle of his office was a beautiful woman. She had pale blonde hair that fell to her chest. She was about my height and slim, devastatingly beautiful and had green eyes. Her eyes were different to Tanya's though – they seemed kind, curious… and playful.

"Hello, Kate," Edward greeted. His body was stiff as he squeezed my hand. "May I introduce you to my girlfriend Bella?" I gave her a shy wave and to my surprise, she smiled at me.

"Hello, Bella. It's nice to meet you." She turned to Edward. "It's good to see you after all this time, Edward. But I'm not here for niceties." She perched herself on the edge of his desk. "I'm here to find out where Tanya is. I've not heard from her for a few months."

Edward cleared his throat but I didn't want him to take the blame. Not for something I had done.

"I staked her." I dropped my hand from Edward's and stepped forward. "I staked Tanya." Kate's eyebrows quirked up and Edward looked at me like I had grown two heads.

Kate glanced between us before crossing her arms over her chest. "Well, you better explain why."

Without meaning to, everything we knew about Tanya came pouring out of my mouth. I told her about the Queen, about her fascination with me (which inadvertently lead to me telling her Rose and I were fae), about her manipulation of Edward into changing Nessie and finally, how she had tried to kill Edward.

By the end of my explanation, Edward had remained silent and Kate… well, Kate actually looked amused.

"So, you staked my sister because she was trying to kill Edward?"

I nodded.

"It's not as simple as that," Edward added. "As Bella explained, she did a lot and hurt a lot of people-"

Kate held up her hand. "You don't need to tell me, Edward. She was my sister." She turned to me. "Which means I know what she was like – and quite frankly, we didn't have the best relationship, so I can't really blame you."

I was shocked. "You're not angry I staked your sister?"

"Angry? I could kiss you. I had to get on with her for the sake of our maker, but that didn't mean I liked her. I just needed to know what happened to her. I didn't want her popping up out of the blue again."

Well, this conversation was going better than I expected.

"You're not going to do anything?" Edward asked. "You're not going to seek… revenge or go to the Volturi?"

Kate giggled. "No – I have no intention of doing either of those."

Edward and I both relaxed, my body sinking into Edward's as he came up behind me and wrapped one arm around my waist.

"That's a relief," I told her, finding I preferred Kate much more than Tanya.

"I like you, Bella."

I smiled.

"Are you going to stay long?" Edward asked and Kate shrugged her shoulders.

"I haven't decided. I know I need to tell Emmett I'm here so I'll head over to his club tonight. Is it true Carlisle and Jasper are in Forks too?"

Edward nodded. "Yeah – they'll want to see you if you're going to stay for a while."

"I'll have to pop in and see them."

"I'll give you their addresses." Edward released his grip on my waist and walked over to his desk, getting some paper and pen. "I have to warn you – there is every chance Carlisle won't be at his house. He's got a new girlfriend and spends most of his time around at hers."

"Good for him." Kate congratulated. "It's about time he found someone."

"Esme's fantastic," I praised. "Her son is the sweetest little thing."

"I can't wait to meet them."

Edward handed her the piece of paper he had been writing on and she glanced down at before sliding it into the pocket of her jeans.

"I'm sorry to have woken you," Kate apologised. "I just needed to know if anything had happened to Tanya. I can rest easy now."

"Don't worry," I told Kate, waving her off with my hand.

"I'll head to Emmett's club and leave you two alone." She rose gracefully from the desk and came over to me. "It was so nice to meet you, Bella."

"You too," I told her sincerely.

"Edward – we must have a proper catch up soon."

"We will," he reassured her. With one final smile, she walked out of the office and out of Edward's home.

We watched her leave and then I turned to Edward.

"Did you know they didn't get along?"

"I knew they weren't close – like me and Emmett really, or well how our relationship used to be – but I didn't know how she'd react to the news of her death." He considered his thoughts for a moment. "I think it went quite well."

I snorted. "Quite well? It went more than that; she could have tried to kill me or announce she would spend the rest of her life plotting revenge on me – this is the best possible outcome."

Edward grinned and pulled me close, wrapping his arms around my waist as mine wound themselves around his neck.

"Shall we go back to bed, Miss Swan?"

"I think that sounds like an excellent idea, Mr Masen."

Edward leaned down and kiss me, slanting his mouth over mine and smiling against my lips.

I was happy. Very happy.

***

Fangtasia

Emmett sat on his throne and gazed into the crowd. One of the pole dancers in front of him tried to catch his eye but it was no good. He only had eyes for one person now. The pole dancer couldn't even compare.

When Rose had told him she wanted to be in a relationship with him Emmett could have dropped to his knees and thanked every deity for his good luck. When she said that he could only see her; well – why would he want anyone else? Rose was an angel incarnate.

Jessica was still upset about his newfound relationship. He could feel her glare from across the club but that didn't matter. She'd get over herself soon, once she had found someone to angry fuck that was.

Emmett scanned the crowd, noting the amount of writhing bodies in front of him. Hm, they were quite busy tonight. Jessica had told him he had to come to the club. Vampires and humans alike had been wondering where he was – apparently, they only came to Fangtasia to see him. Emmett called bullshit. They came to Fangtasia because it was a good club, the drinks were tasty but cheap and most knew they would leave with someone on their arm.

Emmett's eyes zeroed in on a blonde-haired woman that entered. She looked and smell familiar and it only took Emmett a second after hearing her speak to Jessica before he realised who she was.

He stood from his throne and headed over. Jessica was being difficult with her.

"Kate – it's good to see you!" he exclaimed. He pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek and smiled when she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him.

"It's good to see you too, Emmett." They separated and she gave Jessica a sickly sweet smile. "I was just telling Jessica here that I had been to see Edward and now I wanted to stop by and say hello to you."

Emmett wondered why she had been to see Edward. Shit. How did he tell her about the Tanya situation – unless Edward had already told her?

Jessica butted in. "You do know that your sister is dead? Isabella Swan staked her."

Emmett was furious. She had made it sound like Bella had done it for no reason whatsoever.

"Kate, it's more complicated-"

"I don't need you to explain to me, Emmett. Bella has already told me everything." He was relieved.

"You've met Bella?" Jessica was getting more irate by the second.

"Yes – I have to say I really like her. Her and Edward go well together."

"You'll have to meet her cousin, Rosalie, then." Jessica turned to Emmett and smiled. It was a false one. "Emmett just loves her. He can't get enough of her. She's basically got his balls in her handbag!" She spat out the last bit with venom and anger but Kate wasn't phased. She was all too familiar will Jessica's little outbursts.

Kate smiled. "I'm glad that Emmett's found someone. I'll have to make sure to meet her before I go. I also want to meet Carlisle's girlfriend and her son."

Seeing that her words hadn't affected Kate, Jessica turned on her heel and left her position by the door, stomping into the back where she would no doubt destroy something. She really was starting to behave like a naughty child.

Emmett called one of the bar staff over to stand by the door and led Kate through the club to a quiet booth where they could talk. He signalled for the bartender to bring over two Tru Bloods. He'd prefer to be drinking from Rose but that was a conversation they had to have.

"So… what are you doing here Kate? I get the feeling that the visit to Edward's wasn't just a social call."

Kate's finger peeled up one of the edges of the label on her bottle. "I hadn't heard from Tanya for awhile. We didn't talk regularly but we did stay in contact for Sasha's sake. When I hadn't heard from her I went looking for her. None of her usual donors or fuck buddies knew where she was." Her eyes met Emmett's. "But then one of them mentioned the last time she had been with her, she had screamed out 'Edward'. I had figured she was planning something and so I found out where you all were and decided to come and investigate." The label came off completely and Kate began to fold it. "She'd been very strange before her disappearance; researching mythical creatures, spending a lot of time with the queen – she even had a room where she kept this one girl's picture." Kate reached down into her jean pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. She undid it and pushed it across the table to Emmett.

Emmett smoothed the wrinkled paper out and his eyes widened. He was staring at a picture of Nessie. It had been taken somewhere outside, she was sat on a bench with a book in her lap. Her head was bent and her hair was whipping around her face.

"You know her," Kate deduced from his face. "Who is she?"

"This is Nessie," Emmett told her grimly. "Edward's progeny."

"Tanya made Edward change her." Kate filled in and Emmett nodded. "There were so many pictures of her, sitting on a bench, walking, inside a house. The room was filled with them."

"I don't suppose you know why."

Kate shook her head. "I thought it was odd but Tanya was strange." She glanced at the picture. "I did wonder if she was one of her fuck buddies but obviously not."

"You need to tell Edward about this – and Nessie. She was targeted for some reason."

Kate agreed. "Not tonight though. I already interrupted Bella and Edward once." They shared a smile.

"So…" Kate began, "tell me all about your girlfriend." The smile that came to Emmett's face couldn't be stopped. "I want to know all about the woman who reeled in Emmett McCarthy."

***

McCarthy Residence

Rose laid in bed, flicking through her car magazine. She was wonderfully tired; the type of tired when you don't feel as if you're going to fall over and sleep for years, but the type where you floating and know that when you do go to sleep, it will be a good one.

Today had been her day off and she'd gotten quite a few jobs done that she'd been meaning to do for a while. The kitchen had been cleaned from top to bottom, she'd sorted through some old clothes and decided which ones she had wanted to donate to charity and she'd even begun to go through the DVD collection they had, making a start on the ones they would no longer watch. None of them were big tasks, just tedious ones.

She heard the front door open and she smiled. She knew exactly who it was. Emmett. Bella was at Edward's and Emmett had been at Fangtasia again.

His footsteps were surprisingly quiet for a such a large man and he managed to get to her bedroom without making much of a noise, gently opening the door and peeking in.

"Hey," he smiled, not hesitating to walk over, sit on the bed and kiss her. "How's your day been?"

"Good; I got some jobs done. How was your day?"

Emmett got off the bed with a sigh and began to get undressed and ready for bed.

"An old friend came to the club tonight." He shrugged off his leather jacket and placed it neatly on the chair in the corner. "She's Tanya's sister." Rose stared at Emmett, one hundred questions on her tongue. "Don't worry," he waved her off. "She's not bothered about her being staked. She seemed quite relieved actually." He heard her previously quick heartbeat slow down. He sat down on the chair and pulled off his shoes and socks before standing to undo his belt and remove his jeans. "We got talking and she found a room in Tanya's house filled with pictures… of Nessie."

"What?" Rose's magazine was now forgotten as she sat up straighter in bed and watched Emmett grab a pair of sleep shorts he had recently put into her room.

"Yeah," Emmett responded. "Apparently she had lots of them; which shows she knew who Nessie was when she requested Edward change her." He slid the sleep shorts over his bare ass and finally pulled his t-shirt off, throwing it and his other clothes into the laundry basket.

"What does that mean? She was targeted?"

"Looks like it," Emmett told her honestly. "We'll never know the full truth because she's dead but for whatever reason, Tanya wanted Nessie to be a vampire." He slid into the bed on the other side of Rose and immediately pulled her to him, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and the other around her waist.

"Does Nessie know?" Rose settled her head against Emmett's bare chest and glanced up at him, worry marring her features.

He shook his head. "Not yet and neither does Edward. Kate's going to tell them tomorrow." His fingers crept under her top and slid against her warm skin. "I can't imagine it's good, whatever it is."

Rose frowned and through the bond, Emmett felt her concern.

He unhooked his arm from around her shoulders and placed his fingers under her chin. Gently, he tilted her face up until she was looking at him.

"Please try not to worry, Rosie. We've dealt with everything that has been thrown at us so far, so we'll deal with anything else." Her lips quirked upwards. "Besides… you've got me, so what's to worry about?" That got a full smile out of her before her lips slanted downwards.

"Jessica." Was the only thing she said.

"Has she upset you?"

"Not exactly," Rose picked at the duvet cover. "She left a message on the answerphone tonight – I'm assuming when you were at Fangtasia." Emmett waited. "She… she doesn't agree with our relationship and wanted to make me very aware of that fact." Rose bit her lip and raised her head to once more look into Emmett's blue eyes. She knew he could be aggressive and dangerous and violent but when she looked at him she just saw the Emmett who had stood by her side when Bella disappeared, who had given her his blood when the maenad had hurt her and who had defended her from Sulpicia. She saw the man she was in love with. "I don't want to come between you."

"You're not coming between us," Emmett firmly told her. "Jessica is acting like a petulant child. She doesn't like the fact that my attention is diverted."

Rose snorted at his statement. "Emmett I can imagine you haven't exactly been a saint for the entire time you've been a vampire; I'm sure your attention has been… diverted before."

"Not like this," Emmett resolutely told her. "Never like this."

The small smile that crept up on Rosalie's lips couldn't be hidden. "Never?"

"Never," he confirmed.

Rose smiled and pulled Emmett down to her lips so she could kiss him and pour everything she had into the kiss. She had never felt like this about anyone and she doubted she ever would again.

Thank you for reading.

#princesstreacle #princesstreaclefanfiction #out of the coffin #out of the coffin sequel #out of the coffin: the coven #chapter 24 #alternate universe #edward and bella #canon couples #rosalie and emmett #carlisle and esme #jake and nessie #inspired by true blood #lemons